


City Looks Pretty

by eravana



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Ben Solo Angst, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Luke Is A Bit Of A Dick, Minor Character Death, Plot, Slow Burn, Star Wars - Modern Setting - Freeform, Star Wars AU, crying in the rain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-15 03:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eravana/pseuds/eravana
Summary: A broken, bedraggled Ben Solo turns up at your door in the middle of the night, after years of no contact.





	1. A Return

It was almost four in the morning when the sporadic banging on your front door became loud enough to wake you from an unfulfilling dream and dragged you out of your warm bed. Bleary-eyed, you gave the clock on your bedside table a passing grimace as you shuffled through your small apartment, and rubbing your eyes into focus you peeked through the spy hole to try to see what, or who, had dared disturb your much needed rest.  
   
On the other side of the door, mere inches from where your eye pressed against the spy hole, stood a man who may as well have been a ghost. Taking a step back from the door you wrapped your arms around yourself, pressing your fingers into your hips as you hovered near the door, unsure of what to do next.  


"Ben Solo. Ben Fucking Solo."  


You repeated his name, whispering it twice more just as he knocked again, a little more gentle this time, as though he'd realised he'd managed to wake you. “Jesus Ben, it’s the middle of the night...”, you whined as you returned to the door, wrestling clumsily with the key. Unlocking the door you tried to spit out a curse at the inconsiderate, sleep-ruining man stood in your doorway but found that the words wouldn't come, so instead you held your breath and took in the sight before you. Yes this was Ben, but not “your” Ben, not the Ben you remembered. Your Ben had been polished and poised, an irritatingly handsome smirk cut across his pale features more often than not, his tall and broad body wrapped up in expensively labelled clothes befitting the only son of a senator. In all the years you’d known him, even when you were both small, you couldn’t remember ever seeing him looking anything less than immaculate.  
   
Tonight, he looked wrecked.  
   
His clothes; a threadbare black v-neck, too-tight greying jeans and a pair of blue Chucks, were soaked through and clinging to his skin. His thick dark hair, usually pulled back from his face in loose wavy layers, was plastered behind his ears, the source of many little rivers streaming down his face and neck. You looked past him and followed the wet footprints he had left in the building's shared lobby to the main door - how he’d got in without buzzing you couldn’t guess - where through the plate glass window you could see torrential rain battering the street outside.  
   
“Fucking hell, Ben,” you hissed, grabbing his icy wrist and pulling him into your apartment, “what’s going on? How’d you get all the way out here? You haven’t called...”. Your words died off as you shut and locked your door and moved around the dripping man in your living room, banishing the dark of the room as you switched on your lamps.  
   
Warm amber lamplight bathed the room and you finally stopped to really take in the sight of the man before you. Ben was shivering violently, his large hands clenching and unclenching as he swung between rubbing his forearms and swinging his arms awkwardly beside him. He chewed on his lower lip as he looked around your living room, looking but not really seeing; when he finally settled his dark brown gaze upon you he blinked, as though he was surprised to find you there. 

"Oh... hey, kid. Thanks for, for lettin' me in...". His voice was a ragged whisper, and for the first time since the banging on the door had woken you, you paid heed to the nagging sense of worry itching inside your mind. Ben wasn't acting like Ben. The Ben you'd known.

You gave him a brief smile in acknowledgement and glanced down the puddle gathering at his sodden feet. "D-do you - wait, yes, you definitely do." Skipping the few short steps to your bathroom, you spun the taps and began to fill the stupidly large clawfoot tub (your sole indulgence, your only gift to yourself after the shit went down) that took up more than it's fair share of your small bathroom, and pulled out a couple of clean towels from the basket. "I've got some spare things, a shirt and shorts you can have if you want?" you yelled over the noise of the water filling the bath as you moved from the bathroom and slipped around Ben to your bedroom, reaching into a barely used drawer for the oversized gym gear your brother had left behind and you'd never been able to get rid of. Gathering your quarry into your arms you turned to the bedroom door find Ben, now shirtless but still dripping with his shirt balled up in his hand, looming in the doorway. "You need a bath, Solo. You're soaked to the skin." He blinked again at hearing his surname out loud, his eyes more alert this time, and taking the clothes from your grip he let you lead him to the bathroom where the tub had filled halfway. 

"Here you go. Just, um, just dump your wet stuff in the basket and I'll hang it up when you're done. There's soap and all that shit on the side, a spare toothbrush and -"

He nodded, moving further into the bathroom and toed off his shoes. They squelched as he kicked them away, leaving a dirty wet streak on the tiled floor. What had he been doing, and why the hell was he here, half naked in your bathroom? "I'll just leave you to it. Use all the hot water. And shampoo - there's heaps on the shelf, knock yourself out. Get warm. Get clean. Yes, okay, right, I'll just - " And with that, you pulled the door behind you as you left him in the bathroom. What the hell was going on?

\---------------------

Almost an hour had passed, and Ben was still hidden away in your bathroom. Weak slivers of dawn were starting to work their way through the gaps in the thin blinds that hung at your windows, and you could already hear your upstairs neighbours moving slowly around their apartment. Early work shift, you suspected. You double checked the Breakfast Club calendar that hung on your fridge, today's date mercifully crossed out in black ink. A rare day off. The teapot you'd set to boil when Ben had shut the bathroom door fully behind you had long since boiled and cooled, and you considered setting it back to boil again when you heard it. _That_. A moan? Snoring? No. You set your empty mug on the small counter in the alcove your landlord optimistically called a kitchen and moved closer to the bathroom door. Craning your head as you hovered near the entrance, you finally gave up any sense of propriety or privacy and pressed your ear to the cold wood. You heard it again, clearer this time. Not a moan. Not snoring. A sob, almost a howl, and then another. Ben Solo was crying in your bath.

"Um, Ben?" you whispered, knowing he'd never be able to hear you through the door. What were you supposed to do? You hadn't seen or heard from him for longer than you could stand thinking about right now, and now he was having some kind of emotional breakdown in your tub. Another sob echoed from the gap at the bottom of the door, and on hearing that you finally let courage finally take hold of you. You knocked on the door, your other hand clutching the handle. You knew the door would open if you pushed; the lock had been broken for months, and since your brother wasn't around you hadn't bothered to fix it. "Ben, I'm coming in okay?". You pushed the door just wide enough for you to slip inside, and keeping your gaze rooted to the floor you stepped into the bathroom. "Ben, what's going on?".

The man in question was hunched in the middle of the large tub, the now chilled water pooled just below his chest. His long arms were clinging to his knees upon which he hid his face, trying to muffle his sobs on his bony joints. Despite everything, the years that had passed and the arguments and hurt that had gone before, seeing him like this made your heart break. Stepping closer and closer still, you knelt down, leaning your body against the bath as you placed your warm hand on his shoulder. He froze at the contact, then slowly turned his head to face you, rubbing his red eyes on his palms as he forced a facsimile of his old familiar smirk on his face. 

"I'm sorry for... for appearing, like this, out of nowhere. It won't happen again." He reached for a cloth, soaking it in the tepid bathwater then dragging it across his face as though he was trying to wash from existence any sign of the vulnerability he'd displayed earlier. You gently reached for the cloth, and when he wouldn't relinquish it you settled for placing your hand on his instead. You squeezed your fingers in-between his, noticing how his hand still dwarfed your own. "You don't need to apologise to me, or pretend everything's fine. Everything is clearly not fine -"

He scoffed, dropping the cloth but letting your fingers stay locked with his. "You can say that again, kid. Nothing's fine now." His eyes brimmed over with tears, tears he didn't bother trying to wipe away. "I really, really don't want to go into it right now. I'm sorry." He frowned, lines creasing his pale forehead, and looked back at you. "D'you... do you mind if... Can I stay tonight? I'll be out of your hair before breakfast, I swear. I just need to not be _there_."  


You weren't entirely sure where "there" was, not anymore, but you agreed anyway, squeezing his hand once again as you untangled yourself from the floor and made your way to the door. "Take my bed - I'm awake now, may as well stay up since technically it's the morning. Go get some rest and I'll make us breakfast when you get up.". You left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar, and heard the water slosh as you pictured Ben getting his ridiculously proportioned body out of the bath. A few minutes later a slightly less-wet Ben emerged, dressed in your brother's old gym gear with his own damp jeans and shoes in his hands. You took the wet items from him and hung them both by the largest living room window, opening it wide to let the early morning sun and breeze air the clothes and shoes.  


Obviously feeling a little more comfortable, Ben had made his way into your bedroom. You found him fiddling with trinkets and eyeing the photographs you'd hung by your bed; a mix of black and white pictures and Polaroid prints from years gone by. In one frame, a tiny version of yourself hung from your father's neck like a monkey while your brother embraced your mother, everyone beaming at the camera - you couldn't remember for certain who had taken the photo, but suspected it had been taken by Ben's mother on one of those hazy July evenings when everyone would gather in someone's garden with drinks and talks and music. In the next photo, taken when you were on the cusp of your teenage years, Ben's parents sat with yours, four adults somehow squeezed tight on one of those swinging lawn chairs everyone in your street had in those days. They were all laughing at something just behind the photographer, while in the corner of the photo a boy's foot and a girl's hand - your hand - reached into the shot. Another frame held a collection of Polaroids from the few weeks before you left for college, your brother Jeff grinning wide alongside your younger, freckled self, and Ben. Always Ben, hidden away in every photo even if he wasn't physically pictured. 

"I should really change those, they're all so old..." you murmured, embarassed ath the sudden shared hit of nostalgia. Those days were long gone.  
"I like them. I'm glad you kept them, still.". He turned and smiled over his shoulder to you, his thumb resting on a Polaroid of the two of you taken one Christmas, both pulling your very best catalogue model poses showing off the ugly festive sweaters his mother insisted on buying for you each year. You smiled softly at the photo; it was your favourite.  
Pulling yourself back to the present, you gestured to the bed, encouraging him to get in. "Eggs okay?"  
"What?" He slipped under the blankets - your blankets -, propping himself up on an elbow.  
"Eggs. For breakfast, later on." You eyed your clock once again, noting it was far more morning than night now.  
"Oh, sure. Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks."  
"Great, eggs it is then. Okay, so...", you gave Ben a weak thumbs up, "I'll leave you to it.".  


He flopped down onto your pillows and pulled the blankets over his head, mumbling a thanks again and a goodnight from beneath the fabric. Closing your bedroom door fully behind you, you tiptoed into your living room, settled onto your couch and sighed, not quite believing the events of the night. A thousand emotions were spinning around somewhere between your head and your heart, but it was far too early and too soon to contemplate trying to untangle that mess right now. Turning your head, you watched the laces of Ben's shoes spin in the gentle morning breeze that was blowing through your window. You could hear the sounds of the city waking up just as you began to hear snoring coming from your room - _nothing's changed there, then_ \- and for a moment you let your eyes close, just for a moment, as you absorbed the noise of the slowly waking world outside.

When your eyes opened again, sunlight and sound filled the living room. A delivery van was parked outside your apartment offloading goods for the newsagents down the street, and somewhere nearby one of the delivery men was singing as he dragged boxes from within the belly of the van. You snapped fully awake and leapt from the couch, stretching your limbs as you went over to the fridge, pulling out eggs and starting to put the promised breakfast together. "Ben? I'm making breakfast, time to get up!" you called towards the bedroom door as you whisked the eggs into a scrambled mess before pouring them into a pan. Sleeping beauty was deaf as a post, you decided, so you called louder, "Ben! Breakfast!". 

Silence.

Transferring the pan from the hot ring of the stove to the wooden chopping block on the counter, you stepped out from the kitchen alcove and went towards the bedroom door. Before you touched the door handle a crash echoed from the van outside and the delivery crew started to yell at each other, a cacophony of cries that drew your attention. It was only when you poked your head between the blinds to look at whatever had caused the crash that you realised.

Ben's shoes and jeans weren't there. He'd left.

He'd left you again.

And then, in among the cloud of disbelief and anger fogging up your mind, you heard your phone buzzing on the table. "Mom and Dad" flashing on the screen as the ringing grew louder. You answered the phone, your mind blurry, not really paying heed to her words in your ear as you stared where Ben's shoes and jeans had been just an hour or so before, your anger bubbling in your throat until two words from your mother chased it all down.  


"Han's dead."


	2. Depreston

The sunlight of the late summer evening cast a nostalgic glow over the street you'd grown up on as you slowly guided your car towards your childhood home. A squad of neighbourhood kids raced across the strip of verdant front lawns armed with brightly coloured water pistols shooting at anything that moved, including your car. You flashed a watery smile at the gang, slowing your car down to a crawl and waving them to cross the road where they scurried between two houses and vanished, leaving the street deserted.

You parked alongside your mother's Honda and reached into the back for the bag you'd hastily packed for what you were sure would be an agonising few days. After your mother's call you'd kept yourself together just enough to call work and explain the situation. In the time you'd worked at the centre you'd managed to build a good relationship with your boss, Lyra, and she'd signed you off for a week to give you time to be at home. Shielding your eyes from the sun you looked over at the house next to yours, the Solo's house. You recognised Leia and Han's cars in their drive, blocked in by two other vehicles you hadn't seen before. Not wanting to be seen gawping at the house (or to let your brain wonder too hard whether one of the cars belonged to Ben), you locked your car and made your way up the four worn steps that led to your parents' front door.

"C'mere sweetie, it's good to have you home." Your father's eyes were red-rimmed, his shoulders trembling as you tucked yourself into his embrace, letting the tears that had chased you the whole drive home spill into the warmth of his sweater. Before long your mother appeared, her arms wrapping around you both as the three of you stood frozen in the hallway, clinging to each other's sadness. You hated that this wasn't the first time you'd done this.

Later, when you'd all finished picking at the ordered-in pizza that no-one really had the appetite for, your mother explained all she knew about her best friend's sudden death.

"Leia found him late last night, out back in his workshop. Massive heart attack they think. It would've been fast... He'd left the light on, and when she went out to see him she thought he'd fallen asleep on that rocker he'd made a few years back - it was meant to be her Christmas present that year but he said it was " _too smooth for her ass_ ", so he'd kept it out there for himself...". She trailed off, laughing more to herself than anyone else as she did her best impression of the curmudgeonly yet fond voice that Han had directed at his wife for years. Despite their frequent squabbles and the many notoriously insulting pet-names they'd had for each other, Han and Leia Organa-Solo had quickly got over the early mutual dislike that tainted their early days (" _He was a mess, I hated his guts!_ " you'd overheard Leia cackling to your mother and their friends one night when you were too young to join in but too old to go to bed early), and formed a bond that even your own parents swooned over. You poured a shot of your dad's bourbon into each of your parents' glasses, allowing yourself a slightly more generous measure, and settled back into the crook of the huge corner-couch that had dominated their living room for more than twenty years. You'd used this couch as a sickbed whenever you'd tried to sneak a day off school; it had been bounced on by half the street's kids every Halloween and Christmas; you'd had your first clumsy kiss on this couch, on the same cushion you now curled up on as you listened to your parents explain what had occurred. You choked down a sip of your drink, banishing the memory for the moment.

"We'd just got back from Maz's new place - she just opened a new restaurant last week, you should visit if you get the chance when you're here, you'd love it - when your mom spotted Leia out on the drive, leaning against Han's car. She'd been sick right there against the hood, pale as a ghost and she said something about getting a doctor - I thought she meant for herself...", your father drained his drink in one, setting the glass heavily on the table as he continued, "...anyway, we got her inside and I called the doctor while your mom sat with her - she didn't say a word to either of us until the doctor came. We stayed while they took - while they attended to Han, and then they took him away to the funeral home Leia had us phone some people, just some of her work people. Poe's over there with her now -"

"Poe? The kid from the office?"

Your dad nodded, pointing his thumb towards the Solo house as though you could see through the walls that hid it's inhabitants from you. "Yep, the kid from her office. He arrived first thing this morning, don't think he's left Leia's side since. He's not much of a kid nowadays you know, got married last year I think, kid of his own on the way...".

As much as you had liked Poe Dameron the few times you'd met him, and as much as you were glad to know Leia had someone familiar with her tonight, you couldn't help but wonder where the person who should have been comforting her was. Where he'd spirited himself away to when he'd left you sleeping on your couch that morning. You grimaced at the memory - was it really just a few hours ago that he'd sneaked back into your life? - and finished your drink, savouring the burn of the liquid in your throat before letting your parents know about your late-night visitor.

"Wait a second - Ben was there? With you? Last night?!". Your mother was incredulous, muttering something you didn't care to listen to under her breath as you nodded sharply.

"This morning really. He turned up at my place soaked to the skin, didn't say much. When I woke up he was already gone, like he'd never been there at all. I'd just realised he'd left when you called about Han."

"He didn't leave a note? Has he called since?" Your father was pretending to not be concerned, but the tone of his voice betrayed him.

"He doesn't have my number Dad, and even if he did he wouldn't call -"

"Sweetheart, if he can find out where you live and just show up on your doorstep in the middle of the night, I'm pretty sure he could call you if he wanted -"

You sighed, exasperated and frustrated and desperately trying to switch up your body language to disguise how defensive this line of discussion always made you. You'd circled around this argument too many times over the years and had hoped to avoid it entirely this trip. "He won't want to. Ben will do exactly what suits him best at that point in time, just like he always has. Look, he didn't say much of anything to me at all, certainly nothing about Han or Leia, but he wasn't... He wasn't _right_ , you know? He wasn't himself, he wasn't Ben. Leia must have called him, or maybe sent someone to pick him up and he... I don't know, maybe he panicked? Jesus, it's been so long since I'd seen him, he was a mess and I let him in because he's still Ben Solo and I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know what else to do. I'm sorry." By the time you'd realised you'd been crying as you spoke your dad had left the room and your mother was squeezing your hand in hers, patting your arm and soothing you just like she always had every other time Ben Fucking Solo had made you cry on this couch. 

"Tomorrow, we'll go next door, and we'll see what Leia needs us to do. Even if we just sit there, we do whatever it is that she needs. She's so lost right now honey, but she'll know we're there whenever she needs us. Just don't waste another second worrying about Ben Solo, okay? He'll either come home for her or he won't - it's none of our concern. All we can do is try to help Leia get through this horrible, awful time."

"You still don't trust yourself to be around him, do you Mom?" You hadn't meant to say that out loud, your mother could tell. She stopped stroking your arm, but still clung to your hands.

"After what he did... After what happened to your brother... Right now the kindest thing I can say is that I wish he was here for Leia - she's lost her husband, she should have her son with her. But do I care about him, do I care that he's lost his father?" You watched as your mother composed herself, swallowing hard. "Honestly, I wouldn't piss on him if he were on fire. But I made a promise to your dad that I wouldn't waste another minute of my life, a single mote of my energy on directing my anger towards him. He means nothing to me. I don't care about him one way or the other. And neither should you."

Deep down you knew she was right. The damage Ben had left in his wake, the damage he'd caused your family, couldn't be forgiven or forgotten. Not easily. Yet as you lay in your old bed and looked up at his teenage face laughing at you from another set of Polaroids pinned to your wall, you couldn't help but let the tiny break that had cut across the surface of your heart when he cried in your bathroom not even twenty-four hours before open a little wider, cut a little deeper. Where was he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory, backstory! The incredible vanishing man is still vanished, but will make an entrance of some form or another shortly. There's a high chance he will be A Bit Of A Shit. He may even bring a friend.


	3. Need A Little Time

Over the next three days you did what you could to assist Leia and Poe with all the phone calls and organisation involved in organising Han's memorial service. Leia insisted it was to be a celebration of his life and warned all attendees that black wasn't allowed. "Tell them I'll have Chewie on the door, and he'll have instructions to turn anyone dressed as a goth away."

"Chewie" was Han's oldest friend and business partner, having bought stakes in a motorcycle race team together when they were both " _too young and dumb to know better_ ". Despite neither of them having any experience other than both loving bikes, together they turned the Cloud City Tigers into a huge success, rising through the leagues to become one of the most popular stunt and race teams in the country. Chewie visited the Solos often, and was by far the hairiest man you'd ever seen; a thick grey-brown mop cascaded past his shoulders, merging into a beard and moustache that Ben said was a unicorn forest full of secrets. No-one was entirely sure where he came from originally - his speech was so fast and accent so thick that the only people who could translate his growls into a language anyone else understood were the Solos; even your mother, who had known him as long as she'd known Han still had trouble working out half of what he wanted to say (and understood the other half through blind luck). Despite being in his sixties he still cut an imposing figure, having lost none of his youthful height or hair, and Leia knew no-one would dare defy her no-black rule tomorrow, for fear of being on the receiving end of Chewie's disdain.

The memorial was set for Friday morning, eleven a.m. sharp, and on the Thursday evening you found yourself back at the funeral parlour helping Leia with the final fixings for the room. Bright yellow ribbons and bunting had been draped between the rafters of the barn-like space, with tiny mirrors strung amongst the fabric catching the sunlight beaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows that stood on one side of the room, sending it dancing across all surfaces. Han's coffin sat at the top of the room on a slightly raised dais, surround by flowers and pictures. You'd already spotted your own face in amongst the family photographs and had choked back hot tears each time. You missed him, and you caught your thoughts wandering to his son yet again. As far as you were aware he'd made no contact with Leia since she'd called him with the terrible news. She'd recounted him answering his phone, listening as she sobbed, and calmly stating "I understand" before ending the call and leaving Leia sobbing to be found by your parents a short time later. Tying off the last of the garlands that hung from the ceiling you watched as Leia fussed with the wreaths that lay by Han's coffin. 

"They look beautiful Leia, he'd love it." You went over and took her hands, stopping her from repositioning a bunch of pink roses for the thirtieth time.

Leia huffed, giving up on the rebellious roses, and led you to sit with her by the windows. "Pssh, he'd hate all this fuss. No - he'd love the fuss, but he would be a grouch about it."

You nodded quickly, your laugh of amusement dissolving into another round of tears. Leia, small and solid and stronger than anyone you'd ever known, wrapped her arms around you and held you tight. "I'm, I'm so sorry... I'm meant to be comforting you, not the other way around...".

She kissed your hair and wiped your cheeks with her palms, cupping your face in her hands. "You are a comfort, sweet girl. To me, to your parents, and eventually to Ben."

Sniffing, you wiping your nose on a tissue that had long since overstayed its welcome in your pocket. "Still nothing from him?"

The former senator shook her head before checking her phone again just to be sure. "He'll be here. In his own time. You know how he is."

The sense of unease that had been gnawing at you since your first visit the Leia days before finally got its way, and your voice cracked as you spoke. "I should have told you, before... I'm sorry, but he turned up at my place that night. Ben, he... he stayed a little while. He left while I slept, and I've not heard anything from him since." 

She smiled softly, passing you an immaculate linen handkerchief from her pocket. "Oh, I know. I sent him your address after I called him - I'm sorry about that, I know your parents would string me up if they knew, but I was only thinking of Ben. Maybe selfishly, but I knew you'd help him, just like you've helped me these last few days. I knew he'd need you that night."

That was not what you'd expected to hear. Yes, you'd wondered just how Ben had found out your address but you'd suspected something far more illicit than simply his mother giving your details to him. You'd gotten so used to thinking the worst of him, of jumping to the wrong conclusions. "I'm glad, Leia. I mean, yes it was a shock to see him like... like that, after so long, but I'm glad you thought to send him to me. He shouldn't be on his own right now."

She pursed her lips a little, mulling something over before choosing to keep her thoughts to herself. Instead she gathered your bag and car keys, pointing to the door. "Home-time, girly, I've kept you here long enough as it is. Don't you have a boyfriend to call on? A girlfriend? Both?" She had a wicked glint in her eye, mischief evident despite the surroundings you found yourselves in. You let her lead you to the reception area of the parlour. 

"Neither, Leia, you know that. Work, life, more work, y'know how it is...". You trailed off, shrugging with a smile, and she snorted at you as she pointed to the door. 

"Life is short, girly. Go grab it by the balls - I insist! And so would Han." She kissed your hands, sending you on your way.

"Wait, Leia, aren't you coming home too? I can give you a ride back."

Shaking her head, mischief dissipating as she gestured behind her, back to Han. "It's his last night, so I'm staying right here. I don't want him to be alone."

\-------

Your car seat was fast becoming your go-to spot for emotional meltdowns. Leia's words, her vigil for her late husband had caused something inside you to snap, and so you let yourself break and sobbed your heart out in your car once you knew she'd stopped waiting for you to drive off and had moved back into the memorial room itself. It was nine o'clock, and the late evening sun was almost hidden behind the trees and buildings that surrounded the small car park, casting long shadows amongst its golden glow. You reached into your bag for what you knew would be your last clean tissue and used it to wipe your face and blow your nose, before gathering up all the ruined tissues, empty coffee cups and gum wrappers that lay strewn across your dashboard into your hands, taking them to the recycling bin at the side of the building.

It was there as you emptied your car of three days of trash, that you spotted Ben lounging on a bench that sat alongside the boundary of the funeral parlour grounds. Carefully, like trying to sneak up on a skittish cat, you approached.

"You were in with her a while, kid. How is she?" Always so infuriating; of course he'd have been watching her, of course he'd know you were there.

"Hello to you too, Ben. She's... She's your Mom. She's being very Leia about everything."

His lips curled into a sort of half-smile, and he slid along the bench to make room for you to join him. You sat slowly, turning your body to face him, your hands on your knees. No sudden movements, nothing to send him vanishing into the oncoming night.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, to ask him how he was, he began. "I wanted, first of all, to apologise. I shouldn't have burst into your life, your world, the way I did. It was wrong of me."

A Ben Solo apology? This was unexpected. "You really don't need to apologise for that, Ben. Leaving without telling me, though? Apologising for that would be a start."

You detected a tiny change in his placid expression. Amusement. He'd always found it funny when you tried, however weakly, to stand up to him or hold him to account for some of his less kind behaviours. 

"Well, then, I'm sorry for that too. Maybe if my father hadn't died I'd have sent flowers by way of thanks?" 

"If your father hadn't died you wouldn't have visited at all." It came out more bitterly than you intended, and you winced.

He said nothing, but he didn't need to. You both knew it was true.

You let some moments pass, watching as the last couple of cars left the lot, leaving yours standing alone. Ben made no move to leave, for which you were grateful. He chewed the skin around his thumb - a nervous tick he'd picked up as a kid, one you knew he kept trying to break. You used it as your cue to speak once more. "Ben, you really should go to her. She needs you."

He sighed, crossing and uncrossing his legs, pulling at the cuffs of the black tailored shirt that clung just-right to his body. "She doesn't need me. She has Dameron, she has your parents, she has you. I'd be a distraction. The big-eared elephant in the room." You scoffed at the once familiar line, the self-deprecating slur he used whenever he felt unsure of his place in the world.

"Ben you're her son, and she's your mother. Maybe you need her? She's right there, in that building, all on her own with your Dad's coffin and she needs you just as much as you need her -"

"I don't - "

"No, Ben. You do. You always have."

He stilled, and for a second you were sure he was going to get up and disappear yet again. Instead he removed a sleek black phone from his pocket, tapped the screen and held it to his ear. After one ring, his call was answered.

"Phasma, hi. Take the car back to the garage, I won't need a pickup tonight. I'll be in touch when things change." He hung up, and slipped the phone back into its pocket as he rose from the bench. You followed, letting him lead you back to the entrance of the funeral parlour where you both hovered awkwardly. You could sense second and third thoughts rippling off him in waves; he was still scared of what sort of welcome he'd find if he re-entered his mother's orbit. Echoing your gesture when he'd wept in your bath, you reached for him and squeezed his hand in yours as though trying to press a little extra courage into him. He glanced down at your joined hands, then back up to your face slowly, and before you had time to register his movements he had stepped into your space and pressed his warm, smooth lips to your forehead, not once, but twice. The heat from his kisses lingered on your skin even as he stepped back and took a deep breath, steadying himself. 

"Thanks for bringing me home, kid." 

With that, he slipped his hands from your grasp and pulled the door to the funeral home wide, taking his first steps back to both parents for the very last time.


	4. Hopefulessness

You were woken from a fitful night's sleep by your phone's steady repetitive bleeping. Reaching across to the bedside table, you dragged the device under your sheets and slowly opened one eye. Recognising the fuzzy green glow of a message, you swiped the screen and opened it up.

[Unknown Number]: Would you come to the memorial with me? (Sent 06:21)  
[Unknown Number]: Come to the house at ten if you can, if not I'm sure our paths will cross at the wake. (Sent 08:32)

You groaned, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from your eyes - who texted like that? You saved the number in your contacts list and brought up a blank reply.

[Me]: Good morning to you too, Ben. I'll be there. X

You hit send and watched as two small blue ticks appeared beside your message, confirming that it been received and read. Allowing yourself one final languid stretch across the mattress, your rose from your bed and stumbled across the upper hall to the shower.

An hour later you were perched at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, sipping on your second black coffee of the day. Your father had tried to tempt you with cereal and toast but you'd declined; your stomach clouded with butterflies already, less than half of those caused by the impending memorial and all the emotions that would stir. Finishing your bitter coffee, you rinsed the cup and lay it to drain on the side before gathering your small purse and the sunshine yellow pashmina you'd chosen to wear with the navy blue constellation-print midi dress you'd picked out for the day. Sombre, yet undeniably linked to your memories of Han and Leia (they'd taught you how to find Orion and the Big Dipper on a camping trip one autumn, when you were small enough to share one tent with Ben and Jeff), you hoped Leia would approve. A little voice inside you also hoped that Ben would remember and approve too.

"Wait for us, honey, we're a little early to be leaving yet" your dad called out as he speedily polished his dress shoes. 

"I'm not going in your car, Dad. I'm -"

He set down the sponge pad and tin of polish beside his shoes and looked up at you. "Ah. I see."

You set your jaw, ready to argue your case. "I'm thirty-three, Dad. I know you worry, but you really -"

"I may not trust _him_ , sweetheart, but I do trust you. You go, I'll smooth things over with your mother. Just... be careful."

You nodded, bending down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before slipping quietly out of the front door and making your way to the Solo house.

You knocked softly against the glass pane in their blue front door, then turned the handle to let yourself inside. You made your way down the wide hallway, following voices you knew to be emanating from the large kitchen that stretched across the back of the house, facing the lush green garden that held Han's workshop. Leia was poised and ready to leave, draped in a deep crimson gown that made her look like royalty. Her make up was subtle, her hair tied in an intricate chignon and dressed with what looked like a diamond comb. 

"Good morning, darling. Do you think Han would be scandalised by my outfit?" She twirled on the spot, posing for you.

"Oh, absolutely." You kissed her cheeks gently, grinning. "I bet he's watching right now wondering who you're trying to impress."

She smiled, her eyes drifting to the black and white print of a young Han leaning against a cabin, seemingly topless, wearing a cap and wielding carpenter's tools that had hung on the kitchen wall for as long as you could remember. "Only him. Always him."

Heavy footsteps caught your attention as Ben appeared in the kitchen, the strangeness yet familiarity of the scene catching the breath in your throat. "Hey kid, we match." He pointed to your dress and then to his navy shirt, his glittering gold dice cufflinks catching the light. 

"Unintentionally, but yes, it looks like we do."

You didn't catch Leia's mischievous smile, nor the way Ben's gaze followed you as you left the house and made your way in a hired town car to the memorial service.

\------------------

Despite his seemingly calm demeanour in the house and on the journey to the service, you knew Ben's emotions were in turmoil. The skin around his thumbnails had been chewed raw, and he bounced his knee anxiously as he sat sandwiched between Leia and yourself in the car. Twice Leia placed her small hand on his knee, whispering something you couldn't catch, and twice he clutched her hand in his and nodded. As you made the final approach to the funeral parlour, Leia spoke up.

"Ben, I want you to know before we arrive. Luke will be here."

For a second you felt him tense at the mention of his estranged uncle's name before relaxing a little into the seat once again. "It's okay, I expected he'd be here. I'll be good, I promise."

Leia straightened her dress as the car slowed at the front of the building. "So will he, Ben. I made him promise." With that, Leia's door opened and Chewie leaned inside, holding out his hand for Leia to take. He nodded in greeting at Ben, then shut the door as he led Leia past the mourners who had gathered outside to wait for the family and into the parlour.

Whatever façade of peace Ben had held in place in front of his mother cracked as soon as the door shut behind her. He lurched forward in his seat and raked his long fingers through his hair, shallow rapid breaths and panic flaring from him. You'd expected this as soon as you'd heard his uncle's name, so you murmured calming words as you rubbed circles on his back and thigh. 

"I can't do this, kid. I can't face them. I can't do it."

"You can, oh Ben you can. You've already done the hardest part just coming back and being with Leia. No-one else matters today. In a few hours this'll all be over, I promise."

He pressed his knuckles to his mouth, digging his teeth into the taut white skin to push back the panic that was increasing inside him. His voice was a ragged whisper as he spoke.

"Stay with me. Today. Please. I need you to be with me through this. I can't do it otherwise."

Gently, you removed his clenched hand from his lips and squeezed. Even after so many years your hand fit inside his just right, and the realisation threatened to send the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. You raised your joined hands and kissed the back of his palm, your eyes fixed on his. "Don't be afraid, I feel it too. I'll stay right by your side if that's what will help, I promise."

True to your word, you stuck to his side like glue throughout the ceremony. Walking into the funeral parlour together, you could feel your mother's glare burning a hole in your back as you took your seat beside Ben in the front row. With his left hand, Ben reached for his mother, wrapping her up beside him. She patted his chest, turning her attention to the celebrant who waxed lyrical about Han's colourful life. There was as much laughter as there were tears, particularly when Lando Calrissian, local celebrity and owner of one of Han and Chewie's rival bike teams, rose to speak warmly about " _that old rascal_ ". Leia blew him a kiss as he returned to his seat, making way for the next speaker. 

"That's my cue", whispered Ben, as he untangled himself from both you and Leia and made his way up to the dais. As he passed the coffin he paused, rubbing the polished wood and knocking twice on the lid. Leia's composure broke at the gesture, dissolving into tears as her son steadied himself at the lectern. Behind her, her brother clasped her shoulder, reminding her of his presence.

Ben coughed, took a deep breath, and begun.

"First of all, on behalf of my mother and I, I'd like to thank everyone for coming today. Dad would be... amused, I think. Either that or he'd say you'd all lost your collective minds and should go do something more productive..."

From the back of the room you heard Chewie bark out a laugh.

"We also want to thank Poe and Rose Dameron, our friends and neighbours Noel and Kira "next door" and their daughter - my oldest friend, for dealing with all of the arrangements and being such a support to Mom. She really does appreciate it."

Your mother's scoff at the mention of her name didn't go unnoticed by Ben, who moved on quickly to reminisce more about his father's early years. The congregation laughed at some memories, wept at others, and applauded lightly as Ben returned to his seat. Before he'd sat down properly he'd taken your hand once again, visibly trembling as the emotion of the day threatened to overwhelm him. The celebrant returned, and before you knew it music began to play from speakers high in the rafters of the room as Han's coffin was slowly taken through the pale white curtains that lined the wall facing the congregation.

"Mom, no..." Ben's dark brown eyes were wide, panicked as he watched his father's coffin disappear behind the curtains, Leia's face pressed into his chest as she wept. Once the coffin had vanished and the music had ended the congregation began to filter out of the room, their own tears growing quieter as they made their way to the sunlit grounds outside where caterers waited to meet them with drinks and canapes. The celebrant returned to check in with Leia and led her outside where she was met by Luke, Chewie and Lando, who swept her into another larger group of friends you didn't recognise.

Beside you, Ben sat and stared at the curtains which had hidden his father's coffin from view. You weren't sure where the coffin would be now, and to be honest didn't really want to know, but you knew from experience that Ben would be imagining every possibility in his head, breaking his own heart in the process. Just as he had done earlier with his mother, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you tight against his body before pressing his face into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo as you felt his hot tears fall against your scalp. You pulled him into your embrace, your arms barely able to reach around his broad shoulders, and held him tight as he moved his head to your shoulder and wept for his lost father. Your mother's harsh words from your first night home echoed in your head, but the feeling of his broad body against yours helped you to brush them aside, concentrating on the feeling of having Ben Solo in your arms once again. 

After what could have been an eternity but in reality was only a few minutes he pulled away, tucking your messed-up hair behind your ears. "I know this is the worst possible timing, but I've really fucking missed holding you, kid."

Blood rushed to your cheeks, and you barked out an anxious laugh. "Your timing is horrific, Ben, but I'll take the compliment."

He grinned, wide and lopsided and so utterly Ben that for a second you were transported eighteen years back to your parent's huge couch where you'd seen that grin before, just before he'd pressed his warm lips to yours and kissed you soundly until your toes curled. 

"We should probably go check in on Leia..."

His eyes didn't leave yours, his hands remained on your hips. "Yeah, I guess we probably should."

And for a second you were certain he was going to repeat his actions from eighteen years prior and kiss you like his life depended on it, but the moment was scattered to the wind when another voice called out from the patio doors leading to the grounds. 

"Ben, we should talk."

Luke.

In a flash, Ben's entire demeanour changed. Anger and anxiety clouded his expression, his eyes wild as he turned to look towards his uncle. He pushed himself up from his seat with what sounded like a growl and darted through the celebrant's door at the back of the room, a wild navy blue streak against the virescent grounds, fleeing into one of the buildings linked to the main funeral parlour. 

Luke sighed heavily, muttering under his breath. Curiousity beckoned you to follow the older man out into the gardens to try to discover something about the fissure that had split the family apart, but your heart had you on your feet and following Ben's escape into what appeared to be a storage room on the other side of the grounds. There you found him, wild eyed with his hands covered in what looked like blood, surrounded by the remains of a smashed and broken shelf. 

You shut the door behind you and leaned against it, giving him as much space as possible as he paced around the small room. His haze of anger faded when his eyes met yours, and he crumpled to the floor, his suit stained and shirt torn. Copying his movements, you let yourself slide down against the door to the floor, your legs tucked to once side as you watched him calm.

After two deep and calming breaths, Ben began to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuun!


	5. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [TW: past abuse, trauma. Ben reveals a chunk of his time away from his family, and it isn't pretty.]

"How much do you know, about..." Ben gestured beyond the door you sat against, past the door and towards the mourners gathered in the lush grounds outside. "About my parents, Luke, and me?"

You pulled your pashmina from around your arms, folding it into your lap and pulling at a loose thread that had worked its way from the weft of the weave.

"I know that after _us_ , you left for some fancy school upstate. I know that you came home a year early, and that's when whatever blew up between you, Luke and your parents happened. I know that's when you joined First Order and moved to the city, and now you're some hot shot CEO for one of the largest private security firms in the country. That's about it."

His dark eyes looked black in the dim light of the storage room, stark against his pale skin. Dust motes danced in the air around him, tossed violently into the air when, you assumed, he had smashed his fists into the shelf that had lined the wall he now leaned back upon. He listened to you carefully, nodding in acknowledgement when you finished.

"The bare facts. Okay, that's a start. What I'm going to tell you, it's... It's not good. I'm not proud of my part in any of it. And I'll understand if you run from this room and don't give me a second glance, but I would really appreciate it if you'd just listen. I really need you to listen to it. To all of it.

First, though, I'd like it if you sat with me here, and not all the way over there. Would that be okay?"

He shrugged off his suit jacket and spread it on the floor beside him, patting it. "C'mere, kid."

Doing exactly as asked, you moved across the room and curled up on his jacket beside him. You caught sight of the label attached to the jacket's lining and winced; it was _fancy_ , and the room's floor was a mess. Ben chuckled, dabbing his bloody knuckles with a handkerchief retrieved from a pocket. "Stop worrying, I'll get it dry cleaned."

You sat in comfortable silence while he gathered his thoughts; you'd waited almost ten years for this conversation, a few more moments wouldn't hurt. Eventually he stopped distracting himself with the small cuts on his hands and sighed. You waited.

"I've never really known my place. How I fit into everything. Mom and Dad were always so busy and driven in their work that I always felt like I was an inconvenience. I spent most of my childhood trying to get their attention, and then as a teenager I didn't want them anywhere near me.

"Hanging out with you and Jeff helped. From the day we first met you both accepted me without question. I loved spending Friday nights at your place when Mom and Dad were elsewhere doing important things; I remember the three of us on your couch with your parents, watching ET and Back to the Future and eating so much candy I thought I'd throw up."

"You did throw up, week after your eleventh birthday. There's still a stain - Mom had to flip the cushion over to hide it."

Ben turned to you and grinned, as though proud of his legacy.

"What I'm trying to say, barfing aside, is that my happiest memories are being in your house, doing normal family things with your normal family. No senators, no aides, no fucking bike team chatter in the kitchen. Just a normal, caring family. Then when we stopped being best friends and started being something more it just made sense, like it had always been bound to happen. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen years old - I was so fucking happy.

"Then all of a sudden school was over and I had to decide what I wanted from life. Mom and Dad were both convinced they knew best - Mom wanted me to major in politics, Dad wanted me to travel and ' _experience the world before shackling myself to a desk job_ ', and the more they argued about it the less I knew. I looked at Jeff and felt so jealous - all he'd ever wanted was to join the air force, become a pilot and he was close. So damn close until I took it away from him."

"He fell, Ben." 

"I pushed him. I punched him, I broke his jaw and he fell and smashed his head on the kerb. I did that. I can't even remember what the hell we were fighting about, but we fought and I did it and ruined everything." 

The butterflies that had been in your stomach had morphed into wild dogs, curling and snarling in your gut. You knew all too well about this part of the tale - you'd been there, after all. Nineteen years old, you'd watched your childhood sweetheart knock your brother out cold outside of a stupid house party one of your old school friends had hosted, sending him crashing to the cold hard tarmac below. You could still hear the crack of Jeff's skull against the concrete, the bone fracturing, his blood seeping into the dirty gutter below. He'd spent a month in an induced coma and another three months in neuro rehab in the city, but eventually he'd returned home, his skull healed but his personality forever changed. Your kind, focused, gentle brother became erratic, easy to anger and constantly frustrated with his sporadic memory and damaged eyesight. Any notion of becoming a pilot was lost - he wasn't even allowed to drive a car. Jeff forgave Ben as best he could, but their relationship was never the same - time spent together was strained, and you found yourself being pulled in different directions as they competed for your attention and favour. It was almost a relief when after four years of dating Ben ended things between you, announcing he was moving to some sort of business school upstate and giving you and Jeff space to heal. Six months after the argument with your brother that had changed all your lives he jumped into his father's car and left, taking a piece of your heart and soul with him. He ignored vacations and didn't return home for three years, during which time you'd moved to the city and finished training to be a nurse, ready to specialise in neurological rehabilitation. Ben's constant absence, his refusal to even visit had soon stopped making you hurt and instead fuelled your anger - how dare he leave and move on with his life so easily?

"Tell me what happened at college Ben. What made you change?"

He was retreating, pulling in on himself; you were breaching the barriers to secrets he'd carried for almost a decade. But as he retreated you followed, softly carding your fingers through his hair, memory bringing back all the little moves that used to comfort him before. You'd read about the college when he'd announced his intention to leave - you'd been determined to learn as much as you could about the place to try to find a reason, any reason, to try to persuade him to stay. All the marketing literature you'd found described Sith College as a world-class business academy, with a curriculum expertly designed by the college's founder and principal, Hubert Snoke, to train an exclusive group of young leaders to face the challenges of the near future. Fifty students were accepted each year from a global list of applications, and the more you had read the more you had realised that nothing you said would have persuaded Ben to stay. 

Ben curled ever tighter in on himself, flexing his bloodied knuckles to give him something to focus on as he spoke. 

"It wasn't like a normal college. There were rules, strict rules. Order and discipline and routines that had to be obeyed. It was easy at first, the staff let us push the boundaries for the first couple of weeks. Some students pushed too far and were asked to leave - I realise now that they had it lucky. They missed out on the real college experience.

"Snoke did things, to us.  To me, mostly, but to some of the other students too.  Mental shit to start with; manipulation, lies, he'd say anything to fuck with our heads.  Sleep deprivation was a big thing, he loved that because it fucked with our heads and our bodies, and then if we turned up for classes in the morning looking like shit he'd have an excuse to punish us.  Not that he ever really needed an excuse, by that point he could do whatever he liked and we'd accept it.  And he did.    
   
"His methods became more twisted as time went on.  He wanted to strip away our identities and mould us in his image - by Christmas we got new names that we had to use at all times, even shitty little proto-goth uniforms. It was like he'd forced us into renouncing everything we'd been before - we were under his control and at his mercy.  It was made clear over and over that we couldn't trust anyone - not friends, not family, not the other students.  Only him.  When he picked some of us for extra tuition, we were made to feel like it was some great honour, that he saw something more special in us..."    
   
He coughed back a bitter laugh and tilted his head back, his long pale neck stretched as he closed his eyes and sighed.  
   
"You know, you hear about kids, little kids, who'd been abused by someone in power - you don't think about it happening to you.  And I wasn't a kid, so does it even count?  I was nineteen when I started there and nearly twenty-three when I left, but the dynamics were the same.  I was weak, he was strong.  He was in a position of absolute power and he used that against me.  I couldn't tell anyone, so I shut down and accepted it.    
   
"And it was my fault - I'd chosen to go there.  I could've gone to any college I wanted, but I chose that place because I knew it'd piss off my parents.  They could see past all the marketing bullshit and thought they knew how brutal the place was but I wouldn't listen.  I was Ben Fucking Solo and I knew better. The college was sold as being the place to go to become 'great business leaders of tomorrow', all that inspirational 80's Wall Street bullshit - which is annoying because in a way it's true, I am a fucking great business leader.  You've read about me, I know you have - I'm brutal. All the interviews and profiles say it.  I don't stop until I get what I want.  Sometimes it feels like there's no empathy or understanding left in me.  Snoke took that all away."  
   
You knew better than to interrupt him.  While you'd always suspected that at least part of the schism in his family came from his time at Sith, he'd refused to discuss any of his time there with you in the intervening years, other than to confirm that it had been miserable.  
   
His eyes were glassy now, tears of anger and not grief. You felt sick, the implications of what he was telling you - of what had been done to him - racing in Technicolor through your imagination. It amounted to torture.  
   
"You know how I was back then, after I left Sith for good.  I was the town gossip fodder for months, ' _Senator's son a quitter_ ', all that shit. Sure I looked fine on the outside but that was just to stop Mom from trying to get into my head.  ' _I just want to understand you, Ben!_ ' she'd always say, usually just before I left the house to go get fucked up with Bazine and her crew. Using with Bazine made my brain stop for a while. It drowned out the memories. I'd take everything offered to me - drugs, booze, women, men, whatever. Anything was a distraction, and that was fine."  
   
"And what about Jeff?" Your voice was quiet but firm. You needed to know everything now.  
   
He winced in response to your brother's name.  "Jeff was a mistake.  He should never have been involved.  It was my fight, not his."  
   
Raising your voice, you straightened yourself up as you turned to face him. You needed the truth, now. "Jeff was like your brother in everything except blood, Ben.  As kids he worshipped you. You told him to jump, he'd ask how high.  He - "  
   
Exasperated he pressed his fingertips to your mouth, his eyes begging you to _just stop_ for a moment. "You don't need to remind me how much he cared, kid.  I remember all of it."  He hung his head once more, raking his big hands through his hair so hard you worried clumps of it would come away between his fingers.  After a few heavy breaths he stopped, moving his body towards yours to face you more. Opening himself up to you, his eyes earnest and desperate.  He needed you to understand.    
   
"I tried to tell Luke about Snoke, he didn't believe me.  My mother worships the ground her perfect fucking twin walks on and if she knew this it'd kill her.  I tried to tell him, about what Snoke did to me, and I could see it in his eyes.  He didn't - he doesn't - trust me, he didn't believe a word I was saying.   All he saw was the angry teenage kid who'd left home despite his parents' warnings - like I'd come home with my tail between my legs and needed a reason, an excuse to have failed. He told me to come back to him when I'd got my excuses straight. I never have".

Your blood was running cold. Ben had tried to open up about his ordeal to his uncle, and Luke had dismissed him? Mocked him? Your frustration turned to a rage you had to force down. 

Ignorant of your fury at his revelations about Luke, Ben continued on. "But Jeff believed me.  I couldn't say it to his face, so I emailed him the same night after I'd tried to tell Luke.  Spilled the whole thing out and the next thing I know he's found me in some shitty bar downtown and he's furious, kid, you should've seen him, a fucking cloud of rage rolling off him but none of it was aimed at me.  We kept drinking - that was my fault again, I knew he wasn't allowed to drink because of all his medication, but he bought himself some and I just let him drink it - then we'd go hide out in the bathroom for a little while to rub some powder round our gums, then more drinks, then more coke, and that was when the idea to destroy it all came up."  
   
Your parents had called often after you'd left for the city, anxious about Jeff's mental state. They knew he'd been drinking in secret, and suspected worse, but you'd never had it confirmed for sure. You were furious at both Ben and Jeff, but also at your parents and most of all yourself. You'd trained to help rehabilitate patients recovering from brain injuries, you should have known what to expect. You twisted the hem of your dress between your fingers, trying to calm yourself as Ben's words sank in a little deeper. "Wait.  ' _Destroy it all_ '? That's when you decided the torch the college?"  
   
"No, kid.  That's when Jeff decided to torch the college."


	6. Tell Me How You Really Feel

Ben Solo's earth-dark gaze fixed on yours with laser-point precision. He knew that now was the moment; if you ran, if you rejected his explanation now then he'd lose you entirely and forever. There would be no going back from this truth. So he sat still and strong despite the anxiety tearing his body apart on the inside, the echo of his words heavy in the air around you as you digested everything he'd said, including the revelation that Jeff's fate had not been decided by the whim of Ben's poor decision making - your brother had chosen this particular course of action on his own.

And he'd died because of it.

Jeff's body had been found inside the burnt out remains of one of Sith College's dormitories six weeks later. He'd spent the weeks after his night with Ben working out the most effective way to damage the place that had caused his best friend so much pain. And so he'd made his way upstate by bus to the college, buying a wreck of a car to drive the final few miles, the trunk of the car containing a huge canister of fuel, rags and your father's old Zippo lighter.

The police - maybe at your parents' insistence - wouldn't elaborate on exactly what had happened when they appeared at the door of your apartment, other than there had been an _incident_ involving Jeff and he'd been badly hurt. Rushing you to the hospital he had been taken to, the cops said nothing as you drove. Every frantic, panicked text message you'd sent Jeff's way remained unread, and before you even saw your parents, catastrophic and collapsed in a tired relatives' room in the hospital, you _knew_ Jeff was gone.

In the depths of your mind's eye you could still see your mother's reaction when she heard the name of the building Jeff had been found in - she recognised the name of Ben Solo's fancy college right away, and your father and one of the policemen had to physically restrain her from racing from the hospital to the Solo's house to tear apart the man she still held responsible for the death of her son, even knowing that he hadn't lived there for years. Despite what she may have told your father, you knew that same pure white rage remained inside her, poisoning her against her best friend's son.

You'd twisted the hem of your dress into a crumpled knot pulled tight around your knees while you'd been listening to Ben's words; you only noticed the mess you'd made of the fabric when he cautiously took your hands in his, drawing your attention back from the torment in your mind to return to focus on the tiny storage room Ben had turned into a confessional. You let him slide his trembling fingers between your own, steadying yourselves against each other as the weight of his words hit home.

Slowly, carefully, you began to whisper.

"Ben... You told everyone it had been your idea. The police, my parents, your parents, everyone. You said it had been your idea and you chickened out. You told _me_ that, you made me believe you, you made me hate you."

He listened, his thumbs stroking along the back of your hand and knuckles, the semi-dried blood from his own torn hands staining your fingertips red. You didn't pull away.

"It _was_ my fault - what I told him about college, Snoke, about what'd he'd done to me - that's what pushed Jeff into it. You said it yourself kid, ' _you said jump, Jeff said how high_ ' - maybe deep down I knew if I told him he'd react? I told him, and he fucking reacted in a big way - I'm to blame."

You jerked your hands away from his, pulling back and rising up onto your knees.

"Don't you fucking _dare_. Jeff wasn't a fool, Ben. He wasn't easily led or stupid or _damaged_. He wouldn't let anyone take advantage of him - not even you. He loved you, you idiot! You were as good as a brother to him... I _know_ how'd he'd have felt when you told him about that place, about that monster, because I'm feeling it right now - I'd want to do _anything_ to take that pain away from you. Anything." 

Yet again in the presence of one of the Solo's, you were crying. To your surprise this time, so was Ben. 

"So don't you dare try and keep up the charade of being a martyr, and all that ' _it was all my fault, kid_ ' bullshit. Jeff was an adult and he made his choice - the wrong one, and if he were here I'd be screaming at him for being such a... jesus, what was he thinking?"

You leaned closer, your hands on Ben's knees to steady yourself, your tear-stained faces just inches apart.

"But he was an adult and he made a fucked up, terrible decision. You can't pay for that forever. It wasn't your fault."

And as if to press the message home deeper still, you reached for his face and pulled him to you, pouring every single emotion into a kiss that you'd never thought you'd be allowed to give him.

His tears fell heavier as he returned your kiss, and you could taste salt on his lips as you moved to trace your tongue against the seam of his stunned mouth. He froze, but before you could pull yourself away and blurt out embarrassed apologies he clung tighter to you, dragging his tongue against yours and _moaning_ into your mouth.

There was nothing searching or careful about your kiss - it was raw and wide like a wound, years of hurt and pain spilling from both of you and turning into something _else_. His huge hands roamed your torso, all at once clutching your arms, then your back, then losing his fingers in your hair. You explored him as thoroughly as you dared and were surprised to find, when eventually you both pulled away and gasped for air, that you'd ripped two of his shirt buttons wide open, his skin scored with red fingerprints from his blood on your hands.

Black irises watched you, searching for any hint of hesitation or regret. They found none.

When he eventually spoke Ben's voice was rough and ragged with emotion. "I don't deserve that, I don't deserve you being so... _you_." 

You smiled, re-tying the buttons you'd pulled open moments before and rubbing away the ghosts of your lipstick that stained his lips and jaw. He caught your hand in his and pressed his lips to the tip of your thumb, pupils blown wide with lust, desire, need.

"Let me decide what pieces of me you _deserve_ , Ben." You slipped your hands from his grip, moving your body from his lap and back onto his jacket on the floor, not wanting to reveal how willingly you'd give him all of yourself if he asked.

The door to the storage room flew open, banging against the wall and making the remaining still-intact shelves shake. One of the caterers filled the doorway, her expression switching from shocked to amused then back to shocked as she pulled the door over and backed away, muttering an apology as she left. It was the wake-up call you needed, a reminder that your parents were just feet away and that Leia would be searching for Ben all too soon if she wasn't already. 

You straightened each other's appearances up as best you could, Ben dusting any dirt from your dress, you shaking out his jacket and flattening the birds nest you'd made of his hair as you'd kissed. Before you left the room to return to real life and the rest of the memorial service Ben took your hand in his, reminding you of the promise you'd made to stick by his side all day. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and making sure for one last time that you didn't look like you'd just been kissed into next week, you closed the door to the storage room and made your way to Leia, who stood away from the main group of mourners with Poe and Rose Dameron. She caught Ben's eye and glanced at your linked hands, no doubt coming to a multitude of conclusions about just what had caused the pink flush on his cheeks and your untidy appearances. She grinned.

"Poe, Rose, say hi to Ben and his wing-woman!"

The couple greeted you warmly, Poe even reaching up to hug the much taller Ben and offer words of condolence. To your surprise, Ben's expression didn't appear uncomfortable or ungrateful as it would normally do when presented with a display of affection aimed at him, but instead he shook Poe's hand warmly, kissed Rose on the cheeks and made small talk about their wedding a year prior and the new baby squirming inside Rose's swollen belly.

"Not a baby - twins! Isn't it great?!"

Poe's face glowed with adoration as his wife announced the news she'd been barely holding in, the announcement more aimed at Leia than you or Ben. He mouthed a "sorry" to Leia before kissing his wife's cheek, stage-whispering that this wasn't really the time or place. Leia slapped his arm to hush him and shrieked with glee, alarming the rest of the mourners who (unsurprisingly) thought she was crying from sorrow rather than joy. Caterers appeared with glasses of wine for Ben, Leia, Poe and you, orange juice for Rose, and you indulged the couple with warm congratulations.

The afternoon passed quickly, neither you nor Ben leaving Leia's side for too long. Every so often you'd feel Ben's large hand resting against the small of your back, or he'd hook your fingers together quickly while he thought no one was looking. The butterflies were back and as wild as ever, but this time their anxious racing gave way to something less frenetic. Something wild and beautiful and so full of hope it made your skin tingle.

You excused yourself from the group, pointing in the direction of the bathroom as the third glass of wine made its presence known to your bladder. You moved through the group of mourners, mouthing quick hello's to familiar faces as you edged closer to the ladies room that lay inside the main building. You thanked the old gods and the new when you found an empty cubicle and quickly shut yourself inside, relieving yourself as you replayed Ben's kiss in your mind. 

You left the cubicle and eyed yourself in the mirrors that lined the wall behind the row of porcelain basins. You straightened your hair as best you could, fixing your crumpled dress and reapplying a slick of lip balm, soothing the kiss-pinked skin. You grinned to yourself as you quickly washed and dried your hands, keen to get back to Ben's side, pinching yourself that despite the sadness of the day and the weight of his confessions, you were hopeful, _excited_ , and more than a little inappropriately turned-on when you remembered just how well his shirt clung to his body. He always could rock a suit.

You swung the bathroom door open and strode straight into the path of your mother, who's expression could not have been more different to yours. She _seethed_ as she spun you around and pushed you back into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind you.

"Are you completely out of your mind?!" Her voice was a hiss, slithering and slick with menace.

"I don't know what you're - "

"Don't even try to deny it, it's all over your face. You. And _that man_. You're... close again. Aren't you? Answer me!"

Your hesitation only confirmed her worst fears, and all at once the dam that had been holding back her fury broke.

"After what he did? To Jeff, to us, to _me_?! Jesus Christ girl he _killed my son_ , my baby, and you're cavorting with him like some moon-eyed teenager! You do realise he'll break your heart again, just like before, don't you? Once he's bored with you he'll toss you to the side like a dirty rag - why wouldn't he? You've read about what he gets up to in the city, with his women and his work and his devious, nasty little games - he's _disgusting_. I cannot believe you'd do this, today of all days!"

"Mom, that's _enough!_ " Your voice, firm and steady, bounced off the mirrors and pure white walls and shocked your mother into silence. You'd never raised your voice to her before.

"You have no idea, none at all, what he's just told me... and it's not my story to tell. But if you've ever trusted me Mom, if you've ever trusted me at all then you need to believe me when I say that what happened to Jeff - no, what Jeff did - that was Jeff's decision, his choice, his actions. Not Ben's."

You mother's face was screwed up tight, anger and pain etched on every line that crossed her face. She leaned into the wall of basins, grounding herself against them as she held back the urge scream denials and defence of her dead son.

"What Jeff did, Mom... He thought he had good reasons. Not jealousy, and not because you think Ben told him to - he says he didn't, and I believe him. Jeff is gone, and I miss him every single day, but it isn't Ben Solo's fault. You've got to _stop this_ , please Mom. I've loved him my whole life, even when I thought I hated him. Please, please, just stop."

With that, you left the bathroom and made your way across the lawn to Ben who stood inches above everyone else, offering you some peace like a lighthouse in the storm of all your emotions. 

He caught your expression as soon as he saw you, his own expression darkening when he spotted your mother leaving the bathroom behind you. Panic flashed across his face, broadcasting his thoughts to you loud and clear - _she's woken up, her mother's convinced her I'm no good, she's leaving, she's going, she's -_

You reached him, took both his hands in yours, and kissed him softly for all to see. He smiled against your kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as the kiss chased away his doubt and worry. His arms enveloped your body and he sighed against you, visibly relaxing when your arms wrapped around him, holding him tight.

Despite his breathing loud against your ear, you could hear music floating around the grounds. Speakers hidden in the trees played something you'd heard before, and you pulled away from Ben as you watched Leia and your mother embrace, taking each others hands and swaying to the music. Despite your mother's rage at Ben, she had remained a loyal, loving friend to both Han and Leia - made easier no doubt by Ben's self-imposed exile from his family both during and after college. Soon your mother and Leia were dancing properly, taking turns to twirl each other as they each remembered Han and those others gone before him in their own way.

"It was their wedding song. First dance, mom and dad's." Ben whispered against you as you both mimicked your mothers' movements, holding each other close and swaying as "Baby, I Need Your Loving" by The Four Tops filled the space around you. Soon others in the congregation had paired up to dance, and the already light atmosphere became more excitable and festive as song after song encouraged Han Solo's friends and family to dance together, sing together, and really celebrate his life as the afternoon turned to evening.

Once dance became many, and soon your feet ached and stomach hurt from laughing and being spun around the lawn. You were curled up with Ben on a white iron bench underneath a trailing wisteria that had spread itself across the gable end of the funeral home, the air heavy with its scent. Your feet were in Ben's lap as he squeezed out the aches in your ankles that had caused your early retiral from a flamboyant dance-off between you, Lando and Jyn Erso, Han's star biker (Lando had won, but only because you'd let him). Sighing happily as he pressed his thumbs into your ankle bones _just right_ , you couldn't remember the last time you'd felt quite this contented.

Ben raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing. Just happy."

He replaced your shoes on your feet but let them linger in his lap, his fingers tracing the edge of the thin strap that looped around your right ankle. "Even after everything I said. Everything I did?"

You sat up a little straighter, pushing your body up from the armrest you'd been resting against. "Hey, what did I tell you earlier? It wasn't your fault. None of it."

His smile was tight, but genuine. He wasn't there yet, but maybe one day he'd believe you completely.

"You know Luke's been hovering and watching you all day, right?"

He nodded, glancing quickly towards the bar where Luke Skywalker stood, cradling the same beer he'd been nursing since the dancing started, his gaze always returning to his nephew.

"Do you want to speak to him?"

Ben lifted your feet and place them on the ground, sliding along the bench to press his body tight beside yours. "...maybe. Someday. Not today, not when everything's so..." He spun his fingers beside his head, "...crazy."

You lay your hand on his thigh, stroking your thumb against the outside seam of his suit pants. "It's like a Band Aid's been ripped off, isn't it? The skin's all new, pink and raw. It's healed but still delicate. Taking to Luke could rip the wound open again, but then again it might not. Waiting won't hurt."

He stopped spinning his fingers, smiled, and pressed his lips to your forehead, then below your ear, then to your neck. "When did you get so damn insightful, kid?"

You pushed him away, forcing a playful yet serious expression on your face. "I have depths, Solo. Depths."

He couldn't wait to find out.


	7. Give Me Your Fire, Give Me Your Rain

The first few evening stars were starting to glitter in the indigo sky as you and Ben walked slowly along quiet sidewalks and into your childhood street. Leia had decided to stay with Luke and his husband Wedge, not trusting herself to not dissolve completely if she returned to the Solo house this night. Wedge, a retired pilot with a steady eye and warm smile, had relayed the information to you, knowing that approaching Ben directly may spook the man. You’d watched from a few steps away as Ben had escorted his mother to his uncle’s car arm-in-arm, holding her close and whispering soothing words in her ear. She’d reached for him, clasping his face in her small hands, and said “I’m so damn proud of you, son” – easy enough to lipread, but also easy enough to hear – she’d had a lot of wine celebrating her husband’s life, and from across the roof of the car you could see Luke smiling warmly, if a little exasperated, at his twin. Once Ben had watched the car disappear into the night, he’d spun round to you, and taking your arm in his you’d started your slow, peaceful walk home.  


“So… How long are you staying with your Mom for?” You tried to keep the question casual, knowing your own departure back to the city couldn’t be put off for too much longer – your employer had been sympathetic to the situation, but you knew you’d be needed back at the centre before too long.

Ben eyed the Solo house at the end of the street ahead, shrugging. “I don’t know… I mean, I’m glad I came back for Mom, for today, but I can’t stay – the novelty of having me around will wear off, she likes her space, I’ve got the business…”

He trailed off, and your thoughts turned to his life in the city. Despite his face often being plastered across the covers of the various business magazines that lined a shelf in your local newsagents, you didn’t know much about his life other than that he was the one of the youngest CEO’s in his industry, and First Order had a long list of clients - individuals, organisations and sometimes _states_ \- seeking the services of the private security firm. Another realisation hit you.

“Ben, I don’t even know where you live.”

He outpaced you, turning to walk backwards in front of you as he eyed you curiously.

“But I know where you live.”

“Yes, and that’s terribly one-sided. We could be neighbours and I wouldn’t know.”

“We’re not neighbours… but I don’t live far away. Get the subway to Astremont Heights, then come out, cross Bireen Place and walk along Chandrila Drive. Number one-twenty-one. Black door.”

You stopped walking, astonished, mentally tracing the journey between your place and his. “And you’ve always lived there? You’ve been thirty-minutes away from me all this time?”

He smiled, reaching for your hand and leading you up the steps and through the front door of the Solo house. “All this time.”

\----------

After digging out drinks from his mother’s enormous fridge Ben had led you into the den beside the kitchen, the dark cosy space that both Ben and Han had spent lifetimes in reading, playing music and hiding out in when Leia had brought work associates home. Two small round windows sat stationed on the far wall, a set of dark wooden bookcases built into the wall between them laden with hundreds of well-worn, well-loved texts. Han’s huge, ancient, hi-fi system sat on a specially made unit against another wall, with a small couch opposite. In the middle of the floor sat a rickety-looking coffee table, with both Ben and Han’s names etched into the wood.

Ben caught you eyeing the table as you curled up on the couch, setting the bottle of wine and glasses you’d pinched from Leia’s fridge on the table. “We made it together, the table I mean – fuck knows how, it’s a miracle it’s still standing. I’m pretty sure it’s held together with wood glue and wishes.”  


He was flicking through a box of records, trying to choose between two before finally settling on one and placing it on the turntable to play. Fairy lights, clear and multicoloured, had been left strung around the perimeter of the room one Christmas and never removed, lighting the space with little specs of colour and warmth. When he shut the door, it felt like the rest of the world had evaporated, leaving just you, Ben and the room in existence.

His suit jacket had been abandoned in the kitchen, along with your pashmina, bag and shoes. You were thankful you’d chosen a comfortable dress – it had been such a long day, and anything more formal would have had you begging for yoga pants and a hoodie before the memorial had even begun. Ben pulled his formal shirt from the confines of his pants, undoing the restrictive buttons at his neck, and finally collapsed onto the couch beside you. Eyes closed, he took deep, cleansing breaths.

“Tough day, huh?”  


“Mmm, the toughest.”

He sat for a few more seconds, another deep breath in and out, before coming back to you and the room, reaching across to fill each glass with crisp, clear wine.

“What are we drinking to?” He asked as he poured.

“Oh god Ben, I don’t know…” You scanned first his face, then the room, trying to think of something cute. “How about the table? You said it yourself, it’s held together by wood glue and wishes. A miracle.”  


He grinned in agreement, clinking his glass against yours and finally allowing himself to relax fully in the couch. “To miracles.”

\----------

Your conversation flowed freely as you caught up on each other’s adventures from the intervening years, then lulled into a companionable silence, both of you relaxed against each other as gentle music hummed from the speakers opposite. Nerves danced within you when, eventually, he’d reached for you, pulling you to rest against his chest as he mouthed along with the song playing in the background. He kissed the top of your head as your fingertips explored his hand, skimming over the (ridiculously large) watch that wrapped around his wrist.

“You should visit me, when you go back to the city.” You glanced up at him from his chest, trying to gauge his reaction to your statement.  


“I _did_ visit you, kid. The other night.”  


“I mean properly. Maybe a little warning next time so I can tidy up?”  


“You’d like a next time?”  


“I’d like lots of next times, Ben.”

You could almost hear the cogs in his brain whirring as he took in your words – the realisation that you didn’t want to disappear from his life or have him disappear from yours, even after everything he’d told you that day, finally sinking in. Effortlessly he pulled you up to straddle his thighs – a reminder of just how strong the man had become, his hands braver and bolder as they spanned and pressed into your back. You let him kiss the corner of your mouth, and almost _swooned_ when he dragged his lips along your jawline to press his mouth against your ear. 

“I’m trying _so fucking hard_ to not rush you and ruin this…” His fingertips ran along the low-cut back of your dress as he spoke, his touch like streaks of light across your skin. “…but jesus, please just put me out of my misery right now. If you don’t want this, if you don’t want me, please tell me.”

You leaned back to focus on his face, losing your fingers in the thick wavy locks of his hair as you pushed it back. You swallowed, trying to steady your voice before you spoke. 

“There is no-one I want more. Can’t you see that?”

Any response he may have made was lost as your lips crashed together, consuming each other in a haze of pure need. You rocked your body against his experimentally, eliciting a groan as his hands moved to manipulate the buttons at the back of your dress, Ben’s long fingers deftly untying each one without issue.  


“I kinda imagined you’d rip the buttons off my dress, send them flying everywhere…” You whispered, smirking against his mouth as he pushed the material down from your arms and body to bunch at your waist. You took the opportunity to step back from him, just far enough to push your dress to the floor, before you climbed back into his arms dressed only in your stockings, garter belt and pale blue underwear.

“I can do that, next time…”

He paused, then pulled back from mouthing at your neck. “Wait. You imagined me ripping this dress off you?”

“Mmhmm. Last night. Twice.” You winked.

The implication held in your words dawned across his features and he growled, sending his own shirt buttons flying to get lost in the room as he tore the garment from his body, wrenching it from his arms and tossing it to the side as he pressed his bare torso to yours. The blush that had started on his cheeks that afternoon had now spread down his neck and across his chest, a chest that had _considerably_ bulked-up since the last time you’d seen it so many years before. You couldn’t help but be impressed.

Holding you tight against him, he spun the two of you around and pressed your body into the couch, your hair fanned around your head. His eyes were black and wide, full of lust and desire and _something else_ , something you knew he could see mirrored in your own gaze. He kissed his way down your face, neck and chest, stopping only to lick into the hollow of your collarbone and then move further still to suck gently on your nipple, palming the other to a stiff peak as his lips worked on you. He already had you gasping and squirming below him and you could feel his own arousal pressed tight and hard against you as his hands explored further, unclipping the garter belt and rolling each stocking down your legs to be discarded on the floor. He watched you with absolute reverence as he slid his hands back up your calves and thighs to your waist, his fingers dancing across the waistband of your underwear. “Are you absolutely sure?”

You nodded, winking at him as you slipped your thumbs into the elastic and pushed the scraps of fabric down, letting him pull them away from your body fully when you could no longer reach. He copied your movement, pushing his pants, socks and underwear from his long legs to join the puddle of clothes already strewn across the floor.  


He loomed over you, resting his elbows either side of your head as he kissed into your neck, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him close. He hissed as his cock slipped against your pussy, pushing gently at you until you tilted your hips _just so_ , his head nudging at your entrance.

“Jesus Ben, stop dancing and fuck me!”

You could feel his hot smile against your neck, his voice muttering something like “ _impatient fuckin’ woman_ " before he snapped his hips against yours, sheathing himself to the hilt in one slick movement. You squealed into his shoulder, feeling your walls stretch tight around his impressive girth – you hadn’t been filled so well in years, and you were pretty sure Ben could feel that. To his credit, despite the burning white need inside calling him to _move, harder, faster, now_ , he held himself steady and waited while your body relaxed to accommodate him, only starting to rock slowly into you when you tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper and deeper each time.

When you’d imagined _this_ the night before (and if you were honest, many other nights before that), you’d imagined it would be a frantic, intense melding of bodies. Maybe he’d take you hard against a wall, or from behind over the top of a kitchen counter? Maybe he’d sneak up on you in the shower and fuck you hard into the tiles? Or maybe, according to your favourite fantasy, he’d climb into your bedroom late one night and use his wicked mouth on you until you screamed? You had given the subject a lot of thought after all. In reality though, what Ben Solo did was quite, quite different.

He was slow, careful, precise in every movement as he made love to you. He tasted all the skin he could reach, following each kiss with a touch as though he was trying to commit you to memory. When his movements quickened, nonsense words of desire spilled from his mouth like prayers, pressing his body closer and deeper into you with each push. In return, you pulled him tighter and tighter with your legs until he barely had any space at all to thrust inside, your arms locked around him as your hands explored the expanse of his muscled back. He murmured your name with every kiss and lick, tightening the coil inside your body a little more with every gentle thrust inside. You were so _full_ , and it felt perfect.

He continued, sweat beading his skin, your fingers drawing patterns in the droplets as you quivered and sighed beneath him. You loosened your legs enough to let him pull back from you almost completely and there he hovered, breathing you in as you exhaled, your skin _burning_ with need. 

“You’ve got me, Ben. Completely.”

He groaned out a laboured “ _fuck_ ” as he pushed inside you over and over, in and out, in and out, his hips snapping quicker with each thrust. You could almost taste the edge of your orgasm as it built inside you, it was so close, and from the noises Ben was making you recognised his wasn’t far away either. You dragged your hand away from his back, your fingernails scratching at his chest and stomach as you moved lower, down to the slick heat where your bodies joined.

“Watch”, you whispered, as your fingers traced, teased and pressed against your swollen clit, your own eyes focused entirely on him as you pushed yourself closer and closer to the release you both chased.

“Jesus fucking christ, don’t you dare stop that, fucking hell, _fuck_ …” he moaned, attention rapt on your fingers as you worked yourself to a trembling, soaring crescendo, arching your back and crying his name as he thrust once, twice, three times more and came hard and deep inside you, his teeth digging into your shoulder on just the right side of pain.

You stayed there, limbs knotted together, exchanging soft kisses anywhere your lazy mouths could reach, until the sweat on your skin cooled and was replaced by a chill. When you shivered against him for the second time Ben sighed, pulling his body from yours and rising from the couch, taking you by the hand and leading you upstairs.

“My room. Don’t worry about downstairs, I’ll fix it while you shower.”

True to his word, when you emerged from his bathroom warm and wrapped in the thickest white towel you’d ever seen, Ben had gathered up your clothes from the den below and folded them carefully on top of the drawers that had once held his clothes. An overnight bag lay on the floor beside it, leather and expensive-looking, and while he’d pulled a pair of clean tight boxers onto his body the rest of his clothes were stuffed haphazardly inside. He hovered awkwardly, reminding you of the teenager he’d been the last time you’d done _this_ , and so you took the initiative, dropping the towel from your body and stealing an ancient New Order t-shirt from one of his drawers, pulling your underwear on before making yourself comfortable in his old bed. He almost flew in beside you, pulling your body tight against his, your back against his chest, as he peppered your neck and shoulder with kisses, his hand splayed across your stomach.

“That shirt is yours now. I don’t ever want to see you wearing anything else.”  


You giggled, lifting his hand to kiss his healing knuckles. “I think my boss might have something to say about that…”  


He nipped gently at the back of your neck, tightening his grip on your body. “Don’t care. I’ll buy the centre and fire anyone who says you have to wear anything different.”  


You sighed happily, exhaustion creeping up on you. “You’re a loveable idiot, Ben Solo.”  


“Mmhmm. Your idiot.”  


“My idiot. Go to sleep.”  


So he did.


	8. Between The Houses

You’d eventually made it home to your parents’ house late the following morning, after Ben had spent a long, long time getting _thoroughly_ reacquainted with your body through the early morning hours before treating you to a Solo Special breakfast – pancakes, fruit, syrup and coffee so black and bitter you could feel it coating your insides. He’d started dragging his teeth over your hipbone for the third time that morning when you’d finally decided enough was enough and untangled your body from his, darting into his shower with your clothes from the previous day to try to tame yourself into something looking less well-fucked than you did. Watching yourself in his mirror, you could see the skin across your stomach was scattered with a constellation of hickeys and teeth marks, light bruises littered your hip bones where he’d held you tight, and your neck was covered with stubble burns that you knew no concealer would cover. You were thoroughly marked-up, and you loved it.

Before you left his house, just as Luke’s car pulled up with a returning Leia, Ben had thrust “your” New Order tshirt into your hands. “ _I mean it. It’s yours now_ ” he’d kissed into your neck as Leia squeezed past the two of you on the porch, rolling her eyes and making a noise of feigned disgust as she disappeared into the house. You’d pulled the shirt on over the top of your dress and kissed the tip of his nose before leaving, letting yourself into your parents’ house and bracing yourself for whatever reaction they would display at your return.

The house was deserted when you entered, both your mother’s bag and father’s car keys missing from their hooks on the wall near the front door, so you skipped upstairs to change, keeping Ben’s shirt on but replacing the dress with an oversized cardigan and a pair of skinny jeans, before gathering up the belongings you’d brought with you from your apartment and packing them back into the small case you’d brought with you. You’d checked your phone earlier over Ben’s breakfast and had spotted a couple of emails from Lyra as you ate. You knew the jist of what they’d say, “ _we know you’re having a tough time, but is there any chance…?_ ” and had explained the situation to Ben who hadn’t quite managed to hide the disappointment from his face as he ate. To make it up to him, you’d indulged in one of your favourite fantasies and let him take you over the counter; it was infinitely better than your imagination had led you to believe.

\------------

You were loading your case into the trunk of your car when your parents returned.

“Sneaking off without telling us? My my, _he’s_ rubbing off on you already.” You tried to ignore your mother’s jibe as you kissed your father in greeting, helping him to bring in bags of groceries from his car.

“Work emailed, Mom, they need me back for Monday so it’s better if I go back now.”

Your dad deposited a handful of shopping bags on the kitchen table and you followed with yours, disappointment evident as he spoke. “It’s a four hour drive, honey, you could wait until tomorrow. We bought your favourite for dinner tonight.”

You pulled your hair back and tied it with an elastic looped around your wrist, shaking your head as you did so. “No Dad, believe me, it’s better if I go now.” You glanced over to your mother who was lingering out on the porch, staring daggers at the house next door. You lowered your voice. “She’s _this close_ to going over there… me staying here longer will only make it worse.”

Your father had shrugged, pulling you into a one-armed hug. “I may not agree with what you’re doing, honey, but I trust you, and I love you. She’ll come ‘round, you’ll see.”

You wished you had his confidence.

\------------

“When can I visit?”  
“Whenever you want. When are you going back?”

Ben‘s face was, once again, pressed into your scalp as he held you to him – you were starting to wonder if you’d ever be allowed to swap shampoo, given how attached he seemed to be to the scent. He kissed your head and held you ever tighter, and you tried to ignore Leia’s brown eyed gaze pretending to not watch the two of you from the other side of her kitchen; you could almost see the emoji hearts spilling from her eyes as she pretended to read the paper.

“Tuesday, maybe Wednesday. Mom wants me to go with her when she sees the lawyers – we need to speak to them about Dad’s estate, boring shit like that, but I need to get back and make sure I still have a business to get back to…”

You hummed in acknowledgement against his neck, keeping the embrace as chaste as possible despite every instinct in your body screaming at you to stuff him into your car and drag him back to your apartment with you. You’d coped without seeing him for almost ten years, surely you could manage a few days now?  


You extricated yourself from Ben’s arms and led him to the front door, giving Leia a warm hug of goodbye as you passed. She kissed your cheek and thanked you repeatedly, “ _for everything_ ” she’d whispered, giving Ben a knowing glance. He’d steadfastly ignored her, focusing instead on escorting you to your car, giving it a once over as you climbed inside.

“You’ve got enough gas? When was the last time you had the engine checked? Is this thing even safe to drive?”

You rolled your eyes at him, instead beckoning him to the open window, where you leaned out and kissed him firmly. “It's perfectly safe and reliable. Call me, okay?”

He nodded, mouthing a semi-dazed “ _yep, tonight_ ” before you’d turned the engine over and beeped the horn. Your parents emerged from their house, expressions tight as they waved you off, and you watched from your rear-view mirror as Ben waved you off then quickly slipped back into his mother’s house, not daring to linger too long in the presence of your mother. Your heart tightened at the sight.

\------------

[Ben]: This neighbourhood sucks without you in it. I hope you realise that. (Sent 20:07)  
[Me]: Don’t be such a drama queen. (Sent 20:10)  


[Ben]: DO NOT ENGAGE WITH ANY OF MOM’S MESSAGES Ignore repeat IGNORE. (Sent 22:15)  
[Ben]: Lando and Maz took her out for dinner and I think she drank the restaurant dry. (Sent 22:16)

You swiped at your phone, opening the alert from Leia that blinked on the screen.

[Leia Organa-Solo]: YOU MAKE BENN SO HAPPY HE’S BEEN SO GOOD SINCE HE CAME HOME! Han would b so proud. He loved you (Sent 22:12)  
[Leia Organa-Solo]: loves u (Sent 22:13)  
[Leia Organa-Solo]: So did Han and so do I. Visit soon xxxxxxxx (Sent 22:16)

[Ben]: Christ. (Sent 22:18)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s the first chunk of the story done - now onto the next bit. Once Ben returns we should see the introduction of a couple of friends, plus his notoriously bad attitude raise its head (he’s definitely more Kylo than Ben when it comes to work...). Thanks to everyone who has commented, bookmarked or kudos’d - it really does mean heaps, especially on my first ever(!) fic.


	9. Deep Burn Blue

Settling into your usual routine was all too easy once you returned to your apartment, the only exception to the norm being your phone’s constant buzzing whenever Ben messaged you. While he remained with his mother his messages were almost continuous; sometimes just little greetings or texts saying he was thinking about you, other times quick snapshot pictures taken of things he knew you’d appreciate – your phone was rapidly filling with pictures of random dogs spotted on his morning jog, snaps of Leia snoring on her couch, and one of a particularly vivid sunset taken the night before he was due to make his own return to the city. Knowing he was thinking about you made the blood in your veins fizz, and you couldn’t wait to make arrangements to meet up once he got back.

Catching up with work kept you busy, too busy to stay glued to your phone for long. Lyra had done her best to reschedule or delegate your usual classes and appointments to the other nurses in your team, but there was still plenty to catch up with on your return. By Friday afternoon, after days of chasing rescheduled appointments, running rehab sessions and holding meetings with carers, you had all but barricaded yourself at your desk to go over the collection of too-long neglected rehab schedules and reviews for your patients, fuelling yourself with a flask full of your favourite bitter coffee.

“That coffee’ll rot your stomach, you know. I can smell it all the way down the hall!” Rey poked her impish head around the door to the office, brandishing a bottle of water in your direction. You gestured for her to come in and sit, thankful for the interruption.

“It’s literally the only thing keeping me going today – remind me to never take a week off without notice again.”

Rey sniffed the contents of your flask cautiously, wrinkling her nose and sliding it back to you. “It’s not like you had any warning – how was it all, by the way?”

You gave Rey a quick summary of the week’s events, trying and failing to gloss over Ben. She was too perceptive for her own good.

She reached behind her to slam the office door shut, then leaned conspiratorially across your desk, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Wait – you went home for a funeral and ended up in bed with the deceased’s _son_? Who does that? How does that even happen?!”

You hid your face behind a stack of papers, sighing. “It just sorta did. He’s my ex-boyfriend – "

" _He’s your ex?_ You fucked your ex at his dad’s funeral?” Her eyes were wide, incredulous and sparked with wicked mischief. You knew this expression all too well - she'd never drop the subject now. Rey Delaney had started at the centre a week after you had, and drawn to her warm smile and filthy sense of humour the two of you had become firm friends. Her role at the centre had started out as general admin but had morphed over the years – she was now in charge of “philanthropic facilitation” as she put it, which essentially meant she pursued investors and businesses and persuaded them to siphon off some of their profits into funding the centre. She was determined, persistent, and could make a real pain in the ass of herself when she wanted – she was _brilliant_ in the role. She employed the same determination in the pursuit of getting as many details about your non-existent love-life as possible – she hadn’t shed any tears when you’d finally removed your last short-lived boyfriend from your life, and since then had been almost relentless in trying to set you up with friends, former colleagues, even randoms from her running club. 

“Not _at_ the funeral – and for what it’s worth it was a memorial and cremation, not a funeral. And no I didn’t sleep with him at the funeral, just… after. And the next morning. And maybe after lunch too..."

A wide sunshine grin split across Rey’s face. “I am so proud of you. It has been way too long since your ladygarden saw action – " 

"Hey! Not that long!” 

“It’s been _two years_ since Wexley – two years!” 

“More than two years, actually, and my ladygarden has seen action since him.” 

“Lies. You’ve been living like a nun since you dumped him – and before you say it, vibrators don’t count as action. They’re a necessity." 

You slumped in your chair and threw a pen in her direction, refusing to admit she was right. She took the pen as a trophy, slipping it inside the pocket of her blouse and winked at you. 

“So, what’s he like? Hot-hot or funny-hot? Tall dark and handsome? Short, built and ripped? Hey, since he’s your ex was it like riding a bike, you never forget – " 

You pointed your finger at the door, suddenly very concerned with your emails. “That’ll do, pig, that’ll do. Leave, I’m busy.” 

Rey cackled with glee, leaning against the doorframe as you continued to gesture her to leave. “How much _experience_ had he gathered since you last had him? Well hung? Did he leave you ruined for all other men?” 

“Goodbye, Rey. Thanks for your input – " 

“I bet that’s what you said to him too!” 

“Goodbye!” 

She howled and cackled as she fled from your office, wary of more pen-missiles heading her way. You would _never_ hear the end of this. 

\------------

You were waiting for your train home when you felt your phone buzz against your thigh. You rescued it from your pocket and unlocked the screen, that now-familiar warm glow spurring the butterflies in your stomach to life when you saw Ben’s name on screen.

The message opened to a picture of what looked like a list – zooming into the image, you realised it was a pizza menu. Another buzz, another message from Ben.

[Ben]: Still think pineapple is a valid pizza topping? (Sent 18:34)  
[Ben]: You should come over. (Sent 18:34)

You whispered his message to yourself, " _I should come over, I should come over_ " like a mantra as you tried to work out just how you’d get from your current platform to Ben’s – luckily, the next train would take you right past his nearest subway stop, and before you knew it you found yourself on Chandrila Drive, taking the steps to the door and pressing the button marked “SOLO” twice. A buzz, a click, and the door swung open, leading you into a wide hallway, all wooden walls and slate tiled flooring, with a small cage elevator before you. Ben’s apartment was listed on the third floor of the brownstone building, so you stepped inside the elevator and pressed the button. It moved smoothly, and you watched the floors pass by as you rose through the grand building. Just as smoothly as it started the elevator slowed to a stop on the top floor, and you pulled the latticed gate to one side just in time to find Ben waiting for you. 

He was dressed in a pair of dark-grey loose trousers, looking somewhere between gym pants and pyjamas. An expensive-looking, pale blue woollen sweater clung to his torso _just right_ , and his hair looked just washed, the ends still damp as they curled around his face. His eyes were bright, his smile warm, and he held out one hand to you. “Hey, you” he whispered, before pressing his lips to your forehead and leading you by the hand into his home.

He led you through a small lobby where jackets and umbrellas hung against a stark white wall, into a large open plan space lined with exposed brick work and dark wooden floors. Three large arched windows lined one wall overlooking the rooftops of the neighbourhood, with two leather couches arranged to make the most of the view. Doors led on the opposite wall to what you assumed would be the bedroom and bathroom, the wall space between the doors lined with bookcases and shelves spilling over with books, houseplants and photographs. The kitchen area was closest to where you now stood, a curved granite counter studded with a hob at one end, the sink at another, and two pizza boxes on top. The wall behind the counter held the largest fridge you’d ever seen – even bigger than Leia’s -, more cupboards and the oven. It was a home cook’s heaven.

“I took cookery lessons a few years ago – couldn’t keep living off takeout. I would have cooked for you tonight, but… I got nervous.”

You tore your eyes from lusting jealously over the impeccably appointed kitchen, turning your gaze to Ben as he started dishing up slices of pizza. “Nervous of cooking?”

He guided you to one of the couches, city lights glittering at the windows and into the distant night. “I didn’t want to fuck up your first visit. You can’t go wrong with pizza.”

“God, Ben – you worry too much. Pizza is perfect, but next time I want to try your cooking – anything at all.”

“Next time, huh?”

You chewed on a pizza crust, hoping the blush that rushed to your cheeks could be explained away by the heat from the food. “Mmm, next time.”

\------------

“So, how does it feel to be using the new part-owner of the country’s leading stunt bike team as a recliner?”

You grinned against Ben’s chest, cuddling into him a little tighter. You’d long since abandoned the food in favour of curling up together on the couch, limbs entangled and soft, nervous kisses exchanged in the process. 

“Feels pretty damn comfortable, I gotta say. How does it feel to be the new part-owner?”

He shrugged, retrieving his bottle of beer from the floor below and taking a gulp. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, resisting the urge to run your tongue along it.

“It is what it is. I won’t have time to do much with it – uncle Chewie’s the de facto owner, I'm just there for my surname. The only reason I didn’t give the shares to him right away is because Mom begged me not to – she thinks it’s important to Dad that I be seen to be involved. I don’t know what difference it really makes, he’s dead and won’t know if I’m involved or not.”

You could sense his mood darkening as he spoke, and you ran your thumb in circles against his chest, pressing a hot kiss against his collarbone. He caught your hand in his and squeezed gently, trying in vain to hold back a fresh wave of grief, emotion eventually breaking into fat tears that ran down his nose and cheeks. 

“I fucking miss him, so fucking much. It feels like someone’s scooped a hole out of my chest, like I’m empty, like a gaping wound that won't heal... So fuckin’ stupid…”

“It’s not stupid Ben, you miss your Dad that’s all…”

He sniffed back more tears, wiping his eyes on his palms before taking another gulp of his beer, then another. “No, what’s stupid is I wasted so much damn time fighting with him, and with Mom. So much wasted time. 

"D’you know he tried calling me, the night before he died? And what did I do? I saw his name on the screen and I ignored him. Switched my phone off and decided I didn't want to deal with whatever he was calling to argue about. I’m so fucking stupid, kid. Why didn't I speak to him when I had the chance? He was right there and I, I...” Ben's voice dissolved into sobs, crying openly now and not bothering to wipe the tears as they fell, so you did it for him, stroking his damp cheeks with your sleeve as he wept. 

“You had no idea Ben, none at all. You can’t torture yourself with what ifs.” You kissed his cheeks, trying to soothe him with kisses where your words failed.

He nodded against you, pressing his face into the hollow of your neck as he broke down completely and let all the pent-up grief he’d been hiding from Leia escape. His whole body shook, wracked with agonising grief, his cries becoming howls that he muffled against your skin. You reached for one of the dark throw blankets he kept folded on the back of the couch and tossed it over your bodies, letting Ben cling to you like he was afraid you might evaporate in his arms if he dared let you go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the poor broken boy.


	10. Reverse Soundtrack

You weren’t sure how long it took, but eventually Ben’s sobbing calmed, his tears stopped pooling in the hollow of your collarbone, and his trembling limbs stilled. You continued to hold him close against your body, pulling your fingers gently through his hair, a motion you remembered soothing him years before. He nuzzled his nose against your cheek, whispering something you couldn’t quite catch under his breath before he slowly started to untangle his body from yours, rolling inelegantly from the couch before getting to his feet and holding his hand out to you just as he had when he’d met you at the front door just a few hours before.  


“I’d really like it if you stayed. Here. With me.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, ragged and rough from grief and uncertainty. It was obvious from the way he stood before you, hunched and curled in on himself, barely able to make eye contact, that he expected you to want to leave. “I’m a mess, kid. This isn’t how I expected tonight to go, I won’t blame you if –"

You took both his hands in yours, kissing his knuckles and pressing yourself into his space, close enough to reassure him but leaving enough space for him to not feel overwhelmed. “I won’t leave you, Ben. I’ll stay as long as you want.”

He exhaled, releasing the breath you hadn’t realised he’d been holding, his stance relaxing just a little as wordlessly he led you through the living space to his bedroom, his hand still clinging tight to yours. 

Where the main living space had been open and airy, all high ceilings and glossy wooden floors, Ben’s bedroom was a smaller, cosier affair. The walls were painted a deep navy, the colour so deep you felt like you could plunge your hands into it. The window was hidden behind dark drapes, and you dug your toes into the plush, luxurious carpet that covered the floor. It wasn’t a large room by any means, the space dominated by a large wooden bed that sat in the middle of the room, but it felt safe, warm and peaceful – it was clearly Ben’s sanctuary, and the fact that he had invited you into his space made your heart sing. 

Even in the dim lamp light you could see him watching you, still not entirely convinced that you wouldn’t turn your back on him and leave. He was so very vulnerable – he’d bared more emotion tonight that you could ever remember him doing. He’d shown you that he wasn’t coping, that he needed support, that the wounds of his past were torn open, raw and screaming and he’d chosen to reveal all this, not to his mother, his family or friends, but to _you_. You wouldn’t let him down.  


You kept your gaze fixed on his, trying to telegraph your movements to give him time to withdraw if he needed to as you slipped your hands under his sweater, lifting it slowly over his head and pulling it free from his arms. You folded it quickly and placed it on a dresser that sat behind you, then copied the action by removing your own blouse and camisole and setting them beside Ben’s sweater. He let his eyes shift from yours for a moment when he spotted your clothes piled up together, a flicker of a smile curling his lips before he pushed the waistband of his pants down over his hips, kicking them off his feet and passing them to you. Once your jeans were folded and added to the pile the two of you were stood facing each other dressed in just your underwear, yet there was nothing sexual about the moment. Even when the two of you slipped underneath the bed covers and wrapped your bodies together, you knew that for tonight at least this was far beyond the physical act of sex itself – this was a level of intimacy you weren’t sure you’d felt before. His sheets were silky soft, the quilt and blankets cocooning you in warmth, the thick carpet and drapes muffling the noises from the outside world leaving just the two of you. The only sounds you heard were Ben’s breathing and the steady drumbeat of his heart as you lay with your ear pressed against his chest, his arms holding you close to his body, your arms wrapped equally tight around him.  


“Thank you.” His voice rumbled deep within his chest, less raw and ragged than it had been when he’d asked you to stay, but still laced with the same vulnerability he’d displayed earlier. You pressed your lips against his chest and stroked your hand up and down his side, scratching your fingernails every so often.

“Don’t thank me, Ben, I love being here with you. I missed you this week… and before, too. I’ve missed you for a long, long time.” Now it was your turn to be vulnerable. You hadn’t meant to reveal so much to him so quickly, but there was a part of you deep down that already knew that he knew. You’d been missing him since they day he left for college and every day since.

He tightened his grip on you as you spoke, running his left hand gently up and down your spine and you arched into his grip, luxuriating in the sensation of having his skin pressed against yours.

“I’ve missed you too, so fuckin’ much, and I… I loved you the whole time. I still do, kid. I don’t want to ever have to miss you again. I mean it, all of it.”  


“I mean it too. All of it. Just the same.”

He knew, and you knew, and as you let yourself drift to sleep you felt a level of contentment, peace and love that you hadn’t thought possible before.

\------------

The peace was shattered when you were woken hours later by a furious shout coming from outside the room. You snapped fully awake at the disturbance, pulling yourself from the warmth of the bed and grabbed Ben’s sweater from the top of the dresser, hauling it over your body as you emerged from the bedroom. Ben was hunched over his laptop, his grip tight against the kitchen counter, his whole body poised and angled as though he was ready to fight. 

“I cannot fucking _believe_ this. Fucking shit!” With an anguished yell Ben’s arm flew across the counter and sent the laptop crashing to the floor, the screen detaching from the keyboard with a painful snap. You watched, horrified and transfixed as his rage continued, sending utensils and plates to join the laptop scattered and broken on the kitchen floor. Soon Ben was on the floor amongst the broken crockery and shattered glass, waves of his fury emanating just a strong but without violence as he tried to steady his breathing, pulling his knees to his chest and pressing his forehead against them. You tiptoed closer, navigating a path between the shards of the evidence of Ben’s temper until you were crouched beside him on the floor. You didn’t know what to do.

“Talk to me, Ben. What’s happened? Is it work?”

He shook his head, slapping his forehead with his fists as he tried to find the words to explain. “No, no, no it’s worse, it’s so much worse.”

“Leia? Is she-?”

“No, Mom’s fine, it’s not her, it’s…” He reached up, groping for his phone on the counter above, unlocking the screen and handing it to you. 

With trembling hands, you took the phone from him, steadying yourself against his shoulder as you lowered yourself to sit on the floor beside him. You skimmed across the contents of the email displayed on Ben’s phone and felt your stomach sink, your blood solidifying in your veins. 

“I don’t understand Ben, how? How is this even possible after everything?”

“Because he can. Because he’s powerful and has lots of other powerful people working for him. Because he gets whatever the fuck he wants, whenever he wants. He’ll do it again, all of it.”

In bold text, Ben’s worst nightmare had come to life. Snoke had opened a new college.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit short for my liking, but it felt like the right place to end the mini-chapter. Poor Ben, just when he starts to feel secure and (dare I say it) happy, the rug is pulled from underneath him yet again.
> 
> Thanks as always to everyone who reads, comments, leaves kudos or bookmarks - you're all stars and I appreciate it so much.


	11. Battle Drums

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my second update of the day, so skip back a chapter just in case you missed the first one.

Just as soon as you’d re-read the email, Ben’s phone buzzed to life in your hand with the name "Armitage Hux" flashing across the screen. You passed the phone over to Ben and lifted yourself from the floor, busying yourself in the hunt for a brush to sweep up the mess left by his rage while you tried (and failed) to not listen in on the call. Doing his best to dodge the splinters of laptop screen, beer bottles and plates that glittered across the dark wooden floor like stars against the night sky, Ben stretched across the mess and headed to the couches at the other end of the room. You ignored his silent gesturing, trying to tell you to leave the mess for him to clear up, instead you focused on sweeping up every single sharp shard from the kitchen floor.

"Hey Hux, what's - yes, I just saw it. What the fuck is going on? I don’t understand how he can – yes Hux, I am aware of – yes, Hux, again, I’m aware…”

You heard him hiss with exasperation, obviously annoyed with whatever the caller was saying. The caller’s voice rose loud enough that you could hear it from the phone all the way across to the kitchen, and you spotted Ben rolling his eyes to the heavens in a gesture that was so utterly _Han_ it made the breath catch in your throat. God, you wished he was here. The caller eventually stopped talking, just long enough for Ben to start.

“Is that Phasma, is she there? Put her on, let me speak to her. Now, Hux.”

Your attempts at not eavesdropping were useless – you’d swept the same section of floor three times as you listened to Ben’s side of the conversation.

“Phas, yeah, I just saw. Are you okay? Me? Yeah I’m – yes, she’s here. Yeah, me too, so fucking glad.”

You looked up to spot him watching you from across the spacious room, his eyes full of warmth as he spoke.

“I can be in the office later this afternoon, whatever you need. Your place? Okay, no problem… a lawyer? Who?”

He was watching you again, the warmth from before now replaced with anxiety, almost fear.

“Cassian _what_? Andor? No, never heard of him. Are you sure he - okay, fine, fine, I’ll see you at six tonight... Oh, I mean… if you’re sure, sure. Okay, we'll see you then, bye.”

He hung up and tossed the phone onto the couch below him. You gave up on any pretence that you had of trying to pretend you hadn’t been hanging on his every word, leaning the brush against the kitchen counter and crossing the room quickly to loop your arms around his shoulders and pull him to you. It was an embrace he welcomed, and you could feel his breathing return to normal as he settled down to sit on the couch, pulling you down with him.

“I'm so sorry, for the mess, and… _everything_. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”

You listened closely, tucking yourself into the curve of his body as he spoke.

“Phasma and Hux, on the phone... We went through Sith together, and they both work with me at First Order now. Hux is CTO, Phasma’s my... I want to say PA but she’s so much more than that – the company would collapse without her, and we all know it. 

"Hux is… I mean, he’s obviously brilliant at his job but he irritates the shit out of me on a daily basis. Hourly, sometimes. I don’t know how Phasma can deal with him, but she does, and they’ve looked after each other ever… ever since, y’know…

“The new place, Snoke’s college… they emailed the three of us to ask if we’d… if we’d visit, as _distinguished alumni_ , whatever the fuck that means. He’s rubbing it in our faces, showing us his power. He knows, and we know, and there’s nothing we can do.”

Whereas before Ben’s rage had been an untamed explosion, now it was razor sharp and aimed entirely on the man who had caused him so much pain. 

“We've decided it’s time, kid. I’m going over to Phasma and Hux’s place tonight – they’ve arranged for a lawyer to come as well, to meet with all of us…”

“A lawyer? To do what, exactly?”

Ben pulled his hair back from his face, determined anger etched in his expression. You knew before he spoke what he was planning.

“We’re going to do what we should have done years ago. We’re going to go public, tell the world exactly what Snoke did to us, and we’re going to make sure he doesn’t do it to anyone else, ever again.”

Ben’s shock and rage had transformed him in the short time that had passed since discovering the email and then the phone call with Phasma and Hux; where he had once been wild with fear and anger, he was now determined and strong. He was going to do this, consequences be damned, and you knew with every fibre of your being that you would be right there beside him for every step, no matter where it would lead.

You laced your fingers with his. “I’m coming with you.” 

He glanced down at your linked hands, rage dissipating from his expression in favour of amusement as he fully took in your current attire. “You might need to get changed first, kid, you’ll give Hux a heart attack like this. Phasma too.”

You looked down at your bare thighs and how the waistband of Ben’s sweater only just grazed over them and giggled, pulling the fabric down a little lower. “I need to go home and change. Will you pick me up on the way to your friends’ place?”

He agreed, of course, and spent the next half hour apologising yet again for his outburst with innumerable toe-curling kisses which you were more than willing to receive. 

When he’d finally released you from his embrace on the couch you’d dressed quickly and found yourself back at your apartment a little before lunchtime. You busied yourself with overdue laundry and prepared your lunches for the week ahead – your usual weekend chores, but this time tinged with a layer of worry as you went over and over the morning’s events. Ben had kept everything to himself for so long since his abortive attempt to confide in his uncle, and you knew that all too soon his ordeal, and that of Hux and Phasma, would be common knowledge. The only way to ensure that a monster like Snoke would never again be able to torture anyone else like he had Ben would be to blow every secret wide into the open, to shine a light and expose every inch of darkness that surrounded him and his associates. This would mean that Leia would find out, not just about what Ben had endured but also how her brother had dismissed him when he’d needed him the most. You could barely imagine how she’d feel but knew for Ben’s sake, as well as for anyone else unfortunate enough to be fooled by Snoke, it had to be done. It was just such horrible timing - she'd barely had time to mourn for her husband, you knew that this would only add to her distress. Despite this, you also knew that Leia would stand by Ben just as fiercely as you would. She adored him, would do anything for him, and while knowing that he'd kept this from her for so long would hurt, you knew she'd understand eventually why he'd distanced himself; Ben had been trying to protect her as much as himself.

At half past five your doorbell rang, and once again you found Ben Solo lingering in your hallway. This time he was dressed not in an ancient ratty t-shirt and soaked jeans, but in tailored dress pants and a matching shirt, his father’s dice cufflinks glittering against the black fabric. A matte black tie hung around his collar, and a tailored black jacket, lined with a flash of crimson silk, finished the look. For a moment you thought he’d changed his mind and was dressed for a night out rather than a sombre dinner with friends. Then you realised - this was his armour, he was dressed to protect himself against whatever may occur over the coming days, weeks and months. Standing in your doorway, watching you with a dark solid stare wasn't your Ben Solo - this was Benjamin Organa-Solo, CEO of First Order Security, son of Senator Leia Organa and businessman Han Solo, and he was ready for _war_.

When he held out his hand for you, you took it without question. If he needed armour, you’d be his armour too.


	12. Leopold Street

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief description of physical abuse seen in photographs in this chapter.

“Mom, Dad, Ben’s here!”

You were greeted at the door of the suburban home by a pale, wraith-like girl with a shock of waist-length red hair, whose booming voice utterly betrayed her tiny stature. Her grey-blue eyes watched you both carefully as you hovered just outside the front door, waiting for an adult to appear to let you in. Just as the girl opened her mouth to shriek again, Armitage Hux rounded the corner and scooped her up in his arms to move her from her barricade-like position at the door. 

“What did I tell you about opening the door to strangers, Brenna?”

“But it’s not a stranger, it’s Ben…”

“Even so. What did I say?”

“You said ‘shout first, door after’, Dad.”

“That’s right. Why don’t you go work on that Lego set you started?” He not-so-subtly guided the girl towards a sticker-covered door that you took to be a playroom of some kind before shaking Ben’s hand, then yours, and led you further into the house.

“Andor’s already here, we’ll get started after dinner. Can I get either of you a drink?”

Hux took you through what you could only describe as the house of your Scandinavian clean-lined dreams. Walls and ceilings were painted a crisp white, light pouring in from skylights and windows dotted across the walls and ceilings. Where a wall lacked a window, it was covered in black-framed pictures of black and white desert landscapes, a stark contrast against the pure white wall. In the kitchen-diner where you found Phasma and Cassian Andor, splashes of colour in the form of bright yellow cushions, cloths, drapery and, perhaps most startlingly, a neon blue Smeg fridge in the corner of the room added character to the white space. Hux caught you eyeing the bright blue box and smiled. 

“Brenna’s choice. She was sick of all the black and white.” He passed you a beer as Ben went over to greet Phasma and Cassian at the table. 

“How old is she?”

“Six, going on sixteen. A whirling dervish of glitter, stickers and basketball.”

“Basketball?”

He took a gulp from his beer and led you to the dining table, pale fingers tight around the bottle; anxious, and distracting himself with talk of his daughter. “Mmm. She gets it from Phas – "

“I played in school _briefly_ , Arm. Brenna gets her skill from you – she’s tactical, terrifyingly so, worse when she’s trying to play us off against each other… Hi, sorry, please sit - it’s really good to meet you at last!” Phasma rose to her impressive height and kissed your cheeks warmly, pulling out a dining chair for you to sit beside Ben. His hand instantly reached for your leg under the table, grounding himself by tracing his fingers over the seam of your jeans as small-talk swirled around him. He hadn’t said much on the drive over, and you knew better than to try to press him too hard. He was preparing himself for whatever Cassian had to say, and, for whatever he’d have to say to Cassian.

Dinner passed all too quickly, and while the Huxes were friendly and welcoming to you, asking all the usual dinner party questions, none of you could ignore the tension that seemed to fill the room like mist. Much of the tension came from the six-foot-three-inches of man sat beside you, who had said very little through the meal save for complimenting Brenna on her latest Lego creation and promising to help build the next one with her. Andor, the lawyer, watched the trio like a hawk, his questions probing but non-threatening as he asked how you knew Ben, how Ben had met Phasma and Hux, and how they’d all come to be involved with First Order. It was only when Ben started to clear the dirty plates from the table ( _“he does it every time he visits, we’ve long since stopped trying to get him to relax”_ commented Phasma as Ben gathered up cutlery and glasses) that Andor’s demeanour changed, a sense of formality rising. 

“Phasma, Armitage, I think it would be best if I speak to the two of you together first, and Mister Solo afterwards.” 

At the sink, cutlery crashed as it dropped against the counter. “And her. She stays with me. Please.” 

Both the Huxes and Andor looked from Ben to you, and you nodded. 

“Of course, whatever you need.”

\------------

Phasma and Hux spent almost an hour in their office with Cassian while you and Ben sat in the living room keeping Brenna entertained while her parents gave the most difficult of interviews. She led Ben through an elaborate plan to build what she called a “space temple castle base”, full of glitter, turrets and an armoury of magical fairy weapons, listing the component parts that they’d need to build it. When she left the room to wash and change into her pyjamas, you caught Ben ordering an enormous box of Lego on his phone, addressing it to Miss Brenna Hux. You leaned into his shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“You’re a soft-touch, Ben Solo. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

He huffed in amusement, tapping at his screen as he ordered express delivery and ridiculous gift wrap for the girl.

“She’s my god-daughter, I’m allowed to spoil her a little.”

You sat back as he completed the order and returned his phone into its pocket. “I didn’t… you didn’t mention, before. I thought you and Hux didn’t see eye to eye?”

He pulled you back against him, his fingers tracing patterns on your upper arm, grounding himself again in your touch. 

“It was more Phasma’s idea than his, but he didn’t outright refuse, at least not to me. Yeah, we annoy each other at work – he steps on my toes more than he should, he always thinks he knows better, so then I waste too much time demonstrating that I’m not incompetent and I do actually know how to run my own business…” Ben’s free hand was digging tighter and tighter into the arm of the settee as he spoke, “…but we don’t _hate_ each other. I wouldn’t waste energy annoying him if I didn’t care. I -”

Whatever he’d planned to say next was cut short by both Brenna and Phasma returning to the room, the pyjama-clad girl held in her mother’s arms. Phasma’s voice was clipped, her eyes tired and red-rimmed. “Andor’s waiting, Ben. Little miss and I are going to bed.”

\------------

Hux called to Ben as he left the office and pressed something into his hand. Ben looked at it, a palm-sized cardboard box, and tried to hand it back.

“I don’t smoke anymore Hux, you know that.”

“You might, tonight. Take them before Phasma finds out and has the house fumigated.” He turned and gave you a gentle hug, murmuring “be brave” against the shell of your ear before he followed his wife to their daughter’s bedroom.

Ben’s hand was shaking as he knocked once on the office door and led you inside. You didn’t let him see how badly yours were shaking too.

\------------

It didn’t take long for you to realise that the confessions Ben had made that day at his father’s memorial were just the tip of the iceberg in terms of what had been done to him in the years he’d been away. Cassian Andor sat at Hux’s desk, a grave expression pulled tight across his face as Ben described in painful detail the regime of terror that Snoke had reigned over at Sith College. His descriptions of the physical, psychological and sexual abuse carried out not just by Snoke himself but also by his “troopers”, supposed tutors in the college, made nausea bloom in your gut, and it took everything you had to not let it show. You had to look away when Ben brought out a handful of photographs, showing his chest, arms and back covered in welts, burns, wounds and bruises.

“Hux took these, after... It was a bad beating.” 

“Belt, or cane?” Cassian’s voice was softer, his accent more apparent as he spoke.

“Baton. Rope.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, trying in vain to stop your mind from elaborating on the physical evidence of Ben's abuse.

Ben continued, Cassian scratching at the goatee and stubble peppered across his jaw as he listened, taking notes despite the conversation being recorded by a device on the desk. At one point he paused, set down his pen and leaned across to open the window beside the desk. Almost synchronised, both he and Ben lit cigarettes from Hux’s packet, and you watched the two men as they leaned out of the wide window, blowing smoke into the night air like teenagers trying to hide their dangerous habit from their mothers. They smoked together in silence, the only outward sign of either of the men acknowledging the other's presence coming when Cassian reassuringly patted Ben's shoulder as they both finished their cigarettes. You pretended you didn't notice Ben wiping his wet eyes and cheeks on his shirt sleeves before he rolled them up to his elbows and returned to his chair. 

“What happens now?” Ben’s voice was hoarse, both from the smoke and from over-use; he’d been talking for well over an hour. Neither you nor Cassian had dared to interrupt him, fearing that any break in his flow would make him clam up once and for all.

Cassian switched off the recorder and placed it into his bag along with the papers he’d written on. “That depends. What would you like to happen?”

Ben unrolled and straightened his shirt cuffs, distracting himself with his clothes. “It has to be now. I can’t... I can't go through this again. Take what we’ve given you and run with it, whatever’s necessary. Phasma and Hux will agree.”

The lawyer nodded. “They already did – they said the same as you, it has to be now. From tomorrow my team will work exclusively on this case, building it around your statements. We’ll send them to the three of you to review before we submit anything – “

Ben stopped fidgeting with his buttons, placing his palms flat on the desk. “No. Please. I don’t want to review anything. Telling you was enough, I don’t want to read it too.”

“Mister Solo, I feel that I should stress how important it is –“

“Andor, are you going to change anything I’ve told you? Embellish anything? Remove any detail, however minor you might think it to be?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then I don’t need to review it. Living it was bad, re-telling it was tough. I don’t want to see my experiences in print. Not yet.”

Cassian held his hands up, palm out, nodding once in understanding. “In that case I would advise you to inform your parents – “

“My mother. Just my mother.”

“- and anyone else close to you who may be… contacted, in some way, by Snoke’s legal team. They will not take this lying down, Mister Solo. You should prepare your mother, your family et cetera for questions - they may even be called as witnesses, if it comes to that. If she isn’t fully aware of what you’ve been through, she needs to be, as soon as possible. I would also highly recommend seeking some outside support. Counselling, for you and anyone close to you who may need it. The next few weeks and months are going to be difficult, I can’t lie, you’ll face pressure on all sides. I have names I can give you, recommendations, if you think that would help?”

Ben shrugged noncommittally. “Whatever you think is best.”

Cassian rose from his chair and shook Ben’s hand firmly. “Thank you, Mister Solo, for your time. I’ll be in touch soon.”

The two of you followed him as he left the office and headed for the front door, met by Hux and Phasma. The two looked exhausted as they said their thanks and goodbyes to Andor, their hands linked together so tight you worried they’d snap each other’s bones. Ben noticed too, taking your hand in his own and rubbing his thumb against yours. You squeezed back, not daring to look up at him for too long lest you break down right there in Hux and Phasma’s hallway. He only let go of your hand when Hux, clearly just holding on by a thread, gripped him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him closer. They stared at each other, Hux’s grip tightening before he patted him hard in the chest and freed him, smoothing Ben’s lapels down. 

“We’re doing this, Ben. We’ll win this time.”

Ben smiled thinly, glancing at Phasma who mouthed something indecipherable in return. She guided Hux back into the house as you and Ben made your way to his car, Ben taking the passenger seat this time – you knew he was in no state to drive.

“I’m sorry about Hux, he’s more fragile than Phas and I, finds all this more difficult.”

“Sorry about Hux? In what way?”

Ben shook his head as you pulled away from the house and into the quiet street, his sat nav guiding you back to your apartment. “Snoke focused a lot of his… energy on us, me and Hux I mean. We all cope in our own ways, but Hux… I’m worried about him. I haven’t seen him like this in years. Talking about it makes it worse for him, it makes him remember more.”

You let him trail off as you drove, and he didn’t speak again until you pulled up outside your apartment. 

“Tomorrow – if we get up early, can we drive to Mom’s? I can’t tell her this over the phone, and if I ask her to come into the city she’ll only want to know why and then I will end up telling her over the phone…”

You pulled him over to you, kissing him softly, trying to soothe his anxieties as best you could with a gear stick and handbrake between you. “Whatever you need, Ben. You’re stuck with me now.”

He smiled against your lips, catching them in another gentle kiss before the two of you returned to the safety of your apartment.


End file.
